


Seeing Is Believing

by VampireNaomi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 108,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Prussia nor Romano is looking for a new relationship, especially not with each other, but somehow they end up growing closer than they ever expected or wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hetalia fanfic. I consider it a little out-dated because my headcanons, particularly about Prussia, have developed into a different direction since writing this. I hope you'll still enjoy it!
> 
> The story was beta read by Gemini Artemis. A million thanks!

The house was completely silent except for the sound of Prussia scratching his butt. Usually there was always something going on; Italy's house tended to be full of life, talking, laughing, crying and things breaking. Now it was all gone because Italy had dragged Germany out on a walk. Just the two of them. 

Prussia had had to face the very difficult dilemma of whether he should tag along so that he could annoy them or let them go alone so that he could bug Germany with his lewd comments when they came back with ruffled hair and clothes. He had eventually settled for the second option, though it was mostly because he figured it was less likely to result in Germany forbidding him from ever again coming to visit Italy with him. And Prussia would very much like to keep visiting Italy in the future. He was cute.

Prussia sighed and turned to stare at the ceiling as he lay on the couch. Germany and Italy had left only five minutes ago, and he was already bored out of his mind.

There was the sudden sound of the door being opened and slammed shut.

"Back already?" Prussia asked as he lifted himself up to lean on his elbows. "Couldn't last any longer, eh, West? Itakins, if you want to have a real –"

But instead of his brother and that cute little Italy, it was actually the not so cute Italy's brother standing at the door, face red, sour and angry like he had just bitten into a raw tomato.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Romano asked, as if Prussia's very existence was a sore sight to his eyes.

"Nice to see you, too. And what are _you_ doing here?" Prussia asked.

"I live here!" Romano snarled.

"Yeah, but Italy said you'd be with Spain for the weekend," Prussia said.

"I was, and, well.." Romano started to say, but then he cut himself off. "I don't need to explain myself to you! It's my home and I can come and go as I please! So get the fuck off that couch before you spread your disgusting potato germs all over it and I have to burn it!"

"Did Spain kick you out? No wonder if he did. I know he's stupid, but I doubt even he has the patience to listen to your pitiful rants all the time," Prussia said with a cackle. He always liked it when Romano lost his temper, which happened pretty much every time they said a word in each other's presence. It was most amusing to watch the angry blush spread on Romano's face and hear him sputter angry nonsense until he stumbled over his words and became even more flustered.

Romano pressed his lips into a tight line; his shoulders trembled. Prussia felt his grin widen – his entertainment was coming.

But then, without another word, Romano turned his back on him and marched upstairs. Prussia stared after him even when the sound of a door being slammed shook the house and made one of Italy's paintings fall off the wall.

"Huh," was all that he said. Whatever had happened with Spain had to have upset Romano more than usual.

Prussia crossed his hands behind his head and fell on his back on the couch. Now he was bored again.

***

Romano slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, panting through gritted teeth. That... that bastard! What right did he have to lie on their couch like he fucking owned it? He hated Prussia almost as much as he hated Germany. All that made Prussia slightly more tolerable was that he wasn't screwing Veneziano and stealing all of his time.

Goddammit. Romano wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and collapsed on his bed. The last thing he needed now was knowing that Veneziano was off somewhere with that idiot. He had been hoping that he and his brother could be alone and cook something to get his mind off everything, but now the house was infested with Germans.

He buried his face into his pillow and felt lonely and miserable. Just his luck, now Veneziano would be so enamoured with the blond sack of muscles that he'd never notice that something was bothering his brother. And if Veneziano didn't notice it on his own, that was the end of the story because Romano wasn't going to tell him without prodding.

He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts when his stomach let out a low growl. Right, he hadn't actually got to eat anything at Spain's house before he had stormed out. He wondered if they had served anything on the plane. He sure couldn't remember.

Romano got up and wiped his face until he hoped he looked normal again. He should go to the kitchen and cook something, but he realised he didn't want to do it if Prussia was still there. And he most certainly would be because he was like an ugly stain that didn't get off no matter how many times you washed the shirt.

Damn this, Romano thought. This was his house, too. He could do whatever he wanted. He had no reason to feel intimidated by that albino failure who didn't know when it was time to stop existing. Veneziano hadn't asked him if he could invite Prussia over, so Romano was under no obligation to be civil to him.

Encouraged by these truths, Romano wrenched his door open and stomped back downstairs. Prussia was still lying on the couch, one leg dangling over the backrest.

"Well, look who's back. Couldn't be separated from me for long, huh?" Prussia commented.

"Shut up," Romano growled. Crying upstairs had released most of his anger, and now he just felt exhausted and too wary to start yelling at Prussia. He wasn't worth the effort anyway. 

He was hoping that Prussia would stay on the couch now that he had made it into his castle, but it really wasn't Romano's day. He didn't get to do more than open one of the cupboards in the kitchen before he was interrupted by that annoying, raspy voice.

"Great, I was starting to get hungry," Prussia said.

"I'm not cooking for you!" Romano snapped. He turned around just in time to see Prussia pull himself a chair and sit on it the wrong way, leaning his arms and head on the backrest.

"You're the host. I'm the guest. You have to cook for me." Prussia was grinning now, and it was enough to make Romano's blood boil.

"You're not my guest. I didn't invite you. So get the hell out of here before I throw a kettle at you. Which you totally deserve anyway," he said.

"Hey, don't be like that. Now that West and your brother are gone, we only have each other for company. We should use it to our advantage."

"And do what?" Romano asked in suspicion, glancing to his side to make sure the kettle was there if he needed it.

Prussia let out a shrill cackle at the sight of him. "Look at your face! I know exactly what you're thinking!" He buried his face into his arms as he laughed, and Romano felt the noise send shivers down his spine.

"Shut up! Idiot!" he snarled.

Prussia looked at him with an amused smirk. "Hehe, no need to blush like that. You aren't nearly as cute as Italy, so don't worry. Besides, you're Spain's boytoy, and if I want to keep being invited to his –"

Romano grabbed the kettle and hurled it at Prussia. The former nation had time to raise his hands to protect his face, but he was still caught in the corner of his left eye.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" he asked as he jumped to his feet.

"Shut up and leave me alone!" Romano snarled. He wasn't thinking clearly, and his shaking hand was already fumbling for the frying pan that he knew was there. Somewhere under the anger he knew that it wasn't Prussia's fault he was feeling so miserable, but he had to take it out on someone, and Prussia had asked for it.

Thankfully, the front door was opened and Veneziano's happy voice was heard before Romano had the chance to introduce Prussia's face to any other kitchen appliances.

"Hey, Romano! I didn't know you'd be here. I thought you'd be with Spain this weekend. And huh, why is Prussia's eye swelling shut?" Veneziano asked as he entered the kitchen. Romano was more than irritated to notice that not all buttons of his shirt were actually buttoned.

"He had an accident. Fucking idiot. Always talking about the glory of his battles, but anyone can see he has no reflexes and sucks at defence!" he said sulkily.

"Maybe I wasn't expecting to get a kettle thrown at me when I'm a guest here," Prussia said. He removed his hand from the corner of his eye and hissed at the pain, even as the smirk on his face refused to fade. "Good throw, though. But not as good as mine would be."

"What's going on here?" came another voice as Germany entered the kitchen.

"Romano and Prussia are throwing things at each other," Veneziano said.

"Why?" Germany asked and directed a scrutinizing glare towards Prussia.

"Hey, I didn't get to throw anything yet! He started it!" Prussia protested at once.

"You must have done something to provoke him. You always do," Germany said. When Prussia opened his mouth to argue, Germany silenced him with one stare.

"You really should have that looked at," Veneziano said and pointed at the bruise that was quickly forming on Prussia's face.

"That's a good idea. Itakins, you do it!" Prussia said eagerly.

"I'll do it while you keep quiet," Germany said.

"Don't be so hard on him," Veneziano said, and Romano almost wanted to punch him. Was Veneziano really so oblivious that he kept fawning over that stinking piece of Teutonic garbage and didn't even notice that something was wrong with his brother?

"Yeah, listen to Italy. All I did was say that he's Spain's –"

"Shut up about Spain!" Romano snapped, then instantly wished that he hadn't.

All eyes were suddenly on him, though everyone had a different expression. Veneziano was frowning in worry, Germany in confusion, and Prussia's self-satisfied grin had never looked more aggravating.

"See? What did I tell you? He's totally nuts," Prussia said.

"Romano, what's wrong?" Veneziano asked. Under other circumstances, Romano might have told his brother all about it, given that there was first pasta and enough prodding from Veneziano. But he was most certainly not going to say a word as long as _those two_ were here.

"Nothing," he grumbled.

"It can't be nothing if you almost took out my brother's eye because of it," Germany commented.

"You shut up! I don't need to tell you anything," Romano said. He suddenly felt like everyone was against him, and the last thing he wanted was to stay there and let them lecture at him in his own kitchen.

Thankfully, Germany wasn't blocking the entrance anymore, so Romano used this chance to march out and stomp back to his room upstairs.

"Hey, where are you going, Romano? I was just going to start cooking dinner. Won't you help me?" Veneziano called after him.

"I'm not hungry!" Romano yelled over his shoulder.

***

An hour later, Romano was still sulking in his room. He could smell that Veneziano was cooking pasta downstairs, and his stupid stomach refused to stop grumbling. He wouldn't go downstairs, though, no matter how hungry he was.

The others were probably having a great time. Romano could just imagine them laughing and eating their pasta, having completely forgotten about him. Maybe they were even happy that he wasn't there to ruin the atmosphere. Well, if that's what they wanted, they'd get it. Romano was never going downstairs again. He'd starve and die and maybe then Veneziano would feel guilty and wish he had been a better brother to him.

His self-pity was making him feel very satisfied, so he was almost annoyed when there was a sudden knock on his door.

"Romano, can I come in?" Veneziano asked. He tried to open the door without waiting for an answer, but it was locked. "Romano, please open the door."

"Why should I?" Romano asked.

"Because I want to talk to you. And I brought you some pasta," Veneziano said.

"But I don't want to talk to you," Romano said, even as he was already walking to the door to unlock it. Damn his stupid, traitorous stomach.

He tried to just grab the pasta and close the door again, but Veneziano slipped in with surprising stealth and took a place on Romano's bed, crossing his legs under him. The look on his face was more serious than usual, and Romano knew that half the reason why he had brought the pasta was that Veneziano had known he had to trick his way into his room.

"So, Romano --" Veneziano started.

"Are those two gone?" Romano asked.

"Huh? No, they're watching TV," Veneziano said. "Poor Prussia is going to have a nasty bruise tomorrow."

"Good," Romano said.

"What was it that he said to you?" Veneziano asked. Romano had known he would, but he had wished that he'd wait long enough for him to come up with a good lie. Since he hadn't yet, he opted for sitting down on the floor and turning all his attention to the plate in his hands.

"Shut up. I'm eating," he grumbled and stuffed pasta into his mouth.

He felt Veneziano's eyes on him as he ate. Romano did his best to ignore it, but his brother could be a powerful presence when he put his mind to it. He knew he should have been glad that Veneziano was there to talk to him, but he couldn't help but be in a sour mood. He had wanted to have his brother for himself and not have to share him with anyone when he was feeling so down.

"Are you feeling better now?" Veneziano asked when Romao put the empty plate aside.

Romano crossed his arms on his chest and turned to glare away.

"Good," Veneziano said happily. "Then you can tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," Romano said.

"Then why did you throw a kettle at Prussia?" Veneziano asked.

"Because he's an idiot and deserved it!"

Veneziano was quiet for a moment. "Romano, what happened between you and Spain?" he then asked.

"Nothing," Romano said, and he hated it how his body needed only that one word to betray him. His cheeks were aflame; his voice a tad higher than usual, and he was sure that if he started thinking too hard about everything that he had said and done, he might cry. Hell, it was actually pretty damn likely. He drew up his knees and hugged them closer to his body.

"You shouldn't keep it to yourself. You should talk about it. I think it's going to make you feel better than throwing things at Prussia," Veneziano said.

Romano wasn't so sure. Throwing things at Prussia was pretty satisfying. However, doing so required that he was in the same room as the former nation, and he was feeling even less up to that than usual.

"Spain is..." he started, feeling his chest ache when he said the nation's name. He really didn't want to talk about this, he realised, but maybe it would be for the best to get it over with and just tell Veneziano before he learnt it from someone else. All of Europe was bound to know soon.

"Spain and I are no longer together," he blurted out. He buried his face against his knees, so he didn't see Veneziano's reaction.

"What? What happened?" Veneziano asked in surprise.

"It's not important," Romano said, his voice muffled.

"Did Spain do something? Did he say something mean to you?" Veneziano asked, and Romano could hear uncharacteristic anger in his voice.

"He didn't do anything wrong. He's just a fucking idiot," he said, and the tightness in his throat was making it painful to speak. He almost wished he'd just start bawling his eyes out so that he could have it over with.

"What happened?" Veneziano asked.

Romano said nothing. He wasn't sure if he could ever put into words what he was feeling. Was there any way to describe the painful knot of doubt that had been stuck inside him for weeks now, getting more and more tangled with every moment he spent with Spain?

Spain had done nothing wrong, ever. Or if he had, he hadn't meant it. Every time Romano had felt miserable or insecure, Spain had hugged him close, smiled at him and said that everything was going to be fine. It had been wonderful at first, to have someone who didn't push you away when your behaviour was at your worst and when you couldn't stop spitting out hurtful words.

But slowly Romano had started to realise that nothing ever changed. Spain made him feel better for a while, but they never talked about what was causing him that much pain and discomfort. It was like sweeping the floor and hiding all the dirt under the carpet. It was gone for a while, but sooner or later someone moved the carpet and revealed the truth to everyone.

Romano couldn't take the initiative; when he tried, his throat closed up and he always said the exact opposite of what he wanted. There had been so many times when he had just wished that Spain would be a little more perceptive and really _ask_ what was wrong instead of snuggling up close and murmuring something sweet against his neck.

But it wasn't Spain's fault, not really. Romano couldn't help it that it was so difficult for him to express his feelings. He couldn't blame Spain for doing what he thought was right.

"Romano, what happened?" Veneziano asked again.

"Nothing," Romano said. "We just... we decided to have a break."

More like he had just snapped and told Spain that he couldn't take it anymore and that he was fucking tired of it all and how Spain never did anything to help him. He faintly recalled Spain trying to calm him down, as he always did, but he had said something worse, and then... And then Spain's patience had run out as well. It didn't happen often, but when it did, Spain became like a different person, the nation who had conquered foreign lands and brought ancient civilizations to their knees.

Romano couldn't remember the exact words that they exchanged then. Everything was a blur up to the moment that he had returned home and found out that Prussia had claimed their couch as his. However, even if the words weren't clear on his mind, the tone they had used and the anger and hurt in Spain's eyes were.

"Aww, I'm sure it's going to work out," Veneziano said.

It was Romano's full intention to just acknowledge his brother's words with a dismissive hum. That was all he wanted to do. But the ache inside him decided to grow unbearable at that exact moment, and he couldn't stop the sob that shook his body. He hugged his knees closer and cried against them, unable to stop even when Veneziano came to hug him.

It wasn't going to be alright this time, Romano knew.

***

"Really, I wish you'd even try to behave at least once in your life," Germany said.

"I didn't do a thing. Italy's brother is just crazy," Prussia said.

"Then you should know better than to irritate him," Germany remarked.

"Oh, so you're saying this was all my fault? "Prussia asked and pointed at the swollen corner of his eye that was making it pretty damn difficult to see something with his left eye. 

"No, but you aren't exactly innocent," Germany said with an impatient sigh. He looked like he wanted to add something, but then they became aware of the muffled sounds of crying that came from upstairs. 

Germany promptly turned up the volume on the TV so that they wouldn't have to acknowledge it.

Italy came back downstairs some time later. He was alone, and he looked considerably more melancholy than was usual. Prussia didn't think it had been that bad even that one time when they had realised that nobody had been to the store and they had no cheese for their pizza.

"Is everything alright?" Germany asked as Italy took a seat by him on the couch.

"Romano isn't feeling that good," Veneziano said sadly.

"I should hope so. After what he did to me, he deserves to feel terrible," Prussia said, hoping to get some sympathy out of Italy.

Italy turned to look at him curiously. "Huh, are you still talking about that? With the way you're always bragging about how getting shot in war never slowed you down, you're sure taking one bruise pretty seriously," he said innocently, earning an amused snort out of Germany.

Prussia wondered if his cute little Italy was actually capable of hidden insults or whether he was just being clueless. The time he spent pondering it cost him the chance to come up with an awesome come-back line, so he all he could do was cross his hands behind his back and turn his attention back to the TV.


	2. Chapter 2

The doorbell rang, but Romano didn't even look up from the spot on the table that he had been staring at for a major part of his breakfast. He had quickly finished his _caffè schiumato,_ but he hadn't felt like getting up because then he would have had to decide what to do with his day. 

He had spent the past few days in the house, feeling more and more miserable. He was wearing an ugly, old T-shirt that screamed that he was acting like a social recluse who tried his damnest to avoid the real world. He hadn't even had the energy to cook or look after his tomatoes, so he hadn't done a single productive thing since his break-up with Spain.

"Romano!" Veneziano called out from the door. "It's Spain! Can I let him in?"

"What? No!" Romano yelled.

"Aww, are you sure? I think you two should talk and sort things out. You're being lazier than usual and you haven't had a shower in three days!" Veneziano said.

"Shut up!" Romano snapped.

"So, I can let him in then?"

Romano didn't bother to answer. Veneziano probably wouldn't have listened to him anyway, and he knew that he couldn't run from this conversation forever. Besides, a guilty feeling in his chest reminded him, he owed Spain some form of explanation after the way he had treated him. He'd probably just end up making things even worse, but he could at least try.

"Hey, Romano," Spain greeted him as he came into the kitchen. He was smiling, and if it hadn't been for the uncomfortable knot in his stomach, Romano might have been able to pretend that nothing at all had happened and that it was just a normal morning.

"What do you want?" Romano growled.

"Really, now. Don't you think you could be a little more polite to me?" Spain asked. He took a seat on the other side of the table. Before Romano could react, Spain had grabbed his hands into his. The squeeze that was surely meant to be comforting made him feel like he was trapped, and yet he still found himself unable to break free.

"But don't worry," Spain said. "I forgive you. I don't mind the things you say. I know you can't control yourself when you're angry and scared."

"No!" Romano blurted out. Goddammit, had Spain completely forgotten everything they had said to each other? Was he really that much of a doormat?

"No?" Spain asked.

"It's not that simple. I --" Romano started, but his voice got caught in his throat, and his hands suddenly felt hot and sweaty. Damn, he should have tried to practise this beforehand!

"Aww, are you feeling guilty? That's so cute! It's okay; I love you just the way you are," Spain said.

His words had the exact opposite effect they were meant to, and Romano abruptly tore his hands away from Spain's and hid them under the table.

"You... you idiot!" he said. 

Spain's smile turned into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"Now you ask?" Romano snapped. "You never asked before! It was all 'It's okay Romano; don't worry Romano; let me kiss it better, Romano'! Why did you never ask before?"

"Because you never wanted to talk about anything and I had to do _something_ to make you feel better," Spain said.

Romano pressed his lips into a tight line. Just as he had expected. It was all his fucking fault. He was so dysfunctional that even Spain didn't know what to do with him. He didn't deserve someone who was always so good to him. He could never give Spain back even a fraction of his care and love, and the fact that Spain didn't seem at all bothered by it hurt him the most.

"Why? Why do you always say you love me? What have I ever done to deserve that?" he asked in a hoarse voice. 

"But you don't have to do anything! That's what love is," Spain said.

"That's not fucking good enough! Do you have any idea how useless I feel when I can't do anything for you and when you always have to help me up when something happens? You just tell me everything's okay, but nothing ever changes, and the problems always come back! God, I fucking hate this!" Romano yelled.

Spain was staring at him like he was speaking a language he didn't understand. "Romano, you don't have to do anything for me," he said slowly, like explaining some basic concept to a child.

"But I want to!" Romano snapped. "I want to feel that I'm important and that you need me! I can't believe I have to be the one to say this, but it's not much of a relationship if one of us only takes and never gives anything back."

The sudden silence between them felt so heavy and thick that Romano thought he could almost touch it. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his breathing even. He shouldn't panic.

"I... had no idea you were that unhappy with me," Spain said quietly.

"It's not that," Romano said and turned his eyes to the table, too ashamed to face Spain. Spain had been good to him, so much better than he ever deserved. Romano had hurt him a lot during their relationship, and now he couldn't even break up with him without making Spain feel like it was _his_ fault. 

"God, I feel like shit," he said with a moan and leaned against the table to bury his face into his arms.

Spain said nothing for a long time. Romano risked a look at him and saw the other nation frowning in concentration. He could imagine the clockwork in his mind turning as he tried to digest the information he had just received.

"Okay, let me get this straight," Spain said, motioning with his hands to get a better hold of what Romano had said. "You feel that you're useless and that I don't need you, and that's why you're unhappy since you actually want to contribute something to our relationship?"

"That's what I just said, you --" Romano started, but he stopped when Spain reached out to pat his hair.

"Aww, you've become all grown-up!" Spain cooed.

"The fuck are you doing?" Romano snarled and slapped Spain's hand away.

"What you just said is so mature! I never though my little Romano would ever show such insight. I'm so proud of you!" Spain said.

"Did you just hit your head while I wasn't watching?" Romano asked.

Spain didn't seem to hear a word of what Romano was saying. "I guess I don't have to look after you anymore, then," he said, mostly to himself.

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't tell me you were with me because you still saw me as a protectorate!" Romano yelled, somewhat disturbed. That was like... emotional incest or something.

"No, of course not," Spain hurried to say. "But to be honest, you've always been my little Romano to me. I never realised you had become so mature; I didn't know you were thinking about such things."

Romano said nothing. If he hadn't sucked so much at communicating his new-found "mature" feelings, maybe things would have never got to this point.

Spain was still smiling, but there was a hint of sadness to his voice as he continued, "You know, if it's bothering you that much, this is probably the right decision. I guess I should have noticed something was wrong."

"I already told you it wasn't your fault, you fucker," Romano said. 

"Hmm, looks like you still have a few things to learn. But don't worry; I'm sure you'll get the hang of it," Spain said.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Romano asked.

"I know you want to blame it all on yourself, but that's not how it works. It's not that simple. This didn't happen because of you but because we were... a little incompatible, I guess," Spain said. When he noticed the expression on Romano's face, his smile grew even more encouraging. "Aww, don't cry. Wait and see. Everything's going to work out just fine."

"Aren't you even going to be angry at me?" Romano asked, his voice thick with tears.

"No," Spain said and shook his head slowly. "I should have realised that you were no longer the child I used to look after. I should have treated you like an adult and an equal. It's no wonder it didn't work out."

"But --"

"Wait, let me finish. I know it probably sounds like I don't care at all that this happened, but that's not true. I love you, Romano. You're very important to me. I kind of wish we could just start over now that you got that out of your chest, but I don't think much would actually change. I think we both need some time off to think about this," Spain said.

"Yeah," Romano said, and even that one word took all his willpower. His throat was so tight it was painful to breathe, and, God, would he ever get used to his eyes stinging like this?

"And one thing. If you want to start dating someone else, go ahead. It might actually do you some good. Just make sure you introduce him or her to me first," Spain said.

"You can't be serious," Romano groaned, trying not to be bothered by Spain's sudden transformation from a boyfriend to a father figure.

"No," Spain admitted. "But I meant the first part. I don't want you to mope inside four walls. Now that you know better what you want from a relationship, you could try to see if you can get it from someone else."

Romano hated it how Spain's words made it sound like their relationship had been a failure. Far from it. He wished he could have brought himself to say that, but it was like the words were trapped inside him.

"I've had it with relationships for now," he grumbled.

Spain laughed, but Romano could see that his eyes had grown moist. "Who knows, maybe we'll get together again in a century or two. With us nations, nothing ever lasts forever. Before you know it, you're allied with someone you thought would always be your enemy or find yourself at war with lovers and friends," he said.

"I know that!" Romano snapped. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Sure you aren't," Spain said with a smile.

Romano swallowed the lump in his throat. Somehow he had made it to this point without bawling his eyes out.

"So... What now?" he asked.

"Well, I was hoping we could still be friends. Do you think that's possible?" Spain asked.

"Um, sure," Romano replied.

"Great!"

The uncomfortable silence returned, but for once Spain was quick to react. "But wow, look at the time. I'd love to stay for a late breakfast, but I've got a few things to do. Maybe next time. And think about what I said, alright?" he said.

Romano watched how Spain got up and walked out of the kitchen. He heard him exchange a few happy words with Veneziano. Then there was the sound of the door being opened and closed, and Spain was gone.

"Spain is really nice," Veneziano commented as he entered the kitchen.

"So, you were listening," Romano commented.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you wouldn't start throwing anything at him," Veneziano said. He came to hug Romano from behind and leaned against him. Unlike normally, Romano made no effort to shove him away.

"Romano," Veneziano murmured, his cheek pressing against Romano's back.

"Yeah?" Romano asked.

"Now that you're feeling better, you're going to take a shower, right?" Veneziano asked.

"Shut... shut up!" Romano snarled and tried to untangle Veneziano's arms from around him, but he only ended up falling off the chair, bringing his brother with him to the floor.

***

Romano was leaning against the balcony, staring over the roofs of the houses and taking in the sounds of the city. It was the short moment right before nightfall when there was a hint of purple in the sky and the shadows seemed to linger. He could hear children call out to each other in the street below. Someone in the house next door was playing the piano and had left the window open.

There was a breath of wind, and he closed his eyes so that he could better appreciate the hum of the city. There were so many people going about their business, coming back from work, going out with friends... This being Milan, they were all Veneziano's people, but Romano was sure he could feel a connection to them. Maybe it was because they were brothers.

He felt free, he realised. The world looked suddenly different now that he was no longer together with Spain. It wasn't that it had been a terrible relationship. Spain had made him very happy, and he had loved him with all his heart, at least in the beginning.

Ever since he had been a child, Romano had been aware of how nobody liked him as much as his brother and how they always compared him to Veneziano. Even Spain had done so. Because of that, the idea of falling in love had been terrifying when he had been younger. Love made one so vulnerable to rejection and hurt.

Accepting Spain's love had felt so natural back then. It had also been safe. Spain had been someone he knew and trusted, and it had been such a relief to become his. The feeling that someone wanted and accepted him had been indescribable. He couldn't have asked for a better first love.

It hurt that it had come to an end, but he knew it had been the right decision for the both of them. Spain was still important to him, but Romano didn't think his feelings for him were the same as before. Besides, Spain deserved to be with someone who could return his love with the same sincerity. And Romano... He wasn't sure what the hell he wanted at this point, but it was something different from what he had had with Spain.

Romano opened his eyes and blinked as he saw that it had become dark. He figured he had better go back inside and see if Veneziano needed help with dinner.

"It's a while since we last cooked and ate just by ourselves, huh?" Veneziano asked as he entered the kitchen.

Romano grimaced. "I guess I have no choice but to suffer your company this one time," he grumbled.

Veneziano laughed with affection, and Romano decided that he'd stay longer than he had planned before going back to Rome.

*** 

If there was a phrase to describe his relationship with France, Prussia supposed it was friends with benefits. Every now and then he would drop by in Paris and enjoy the city of love to the fullest. He liked to think it was only because the sex was great, but the truth was that a former nation, especially one known for strict military might, wasn't really needed or wanted in modern Europe. The moments in France's bed fleetingly allowed him to live in the past.

So, it was with some sense of anticipation that he threw himself on France's couch and watched the other nation pour wine into two glasses. However, something immediately caught Prussia's attention.

"Who is the third glass for?" he asked and pointed at the one that France had left empty.

"Spain, of course," France said.

"What do you mean 'of course'?" Prussia asked.

France turned to look at him with one brow lifted, and Prussia suddenly felt like he had said something really stupid.

"You have heard the news, haven't you?" France asked. 

"Sure! Of course I have!" Prussia said.

Sadly, France wasn't convinced. He sighed and shook his head. "For your information, Spain is no longer together with Romano," he said.

"Oh, when did that happen?" Prussia asked as casually as he could.

"Seriously, how can you be so out of the loop?" France asked in dismay.

"I've been a little busy," Prussia said. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent a good portion of the previous week playing WoW in Germany's basement, only emerging when he ran out of beer.

"Well, never mind that. I guess I shouldn't be surprised," France said. He came to hand Prussia one of the glasses and shot another curious look at him. "By the way, what happened to your face? You look horrible."

"Oh, I just had some hot hate sex with Hungary," Prussia said.

France looked like he didn't quite believe him, but Prussia didn't really care. He gulped down the wine at one go and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

"So, I take it we're going out with Spain to take his mind off this?" he asked.

"Exactly. He's trying to act like he's not upset, but I can see right through him. And I know the best medicine. As his friends, it's our duty to make sure he wakes up tomorrow in a bed that isn't his," France said.

"Why not just make that your bed, then?" Prussia asked. Actually, he wouldn't mind if it were all three of them to wake up in France's bed the next morning. It was years since they had last had that kind of fun. In the past, there had been glorious victory sex on the battlefield and after forming alliances. Today...

Prussia tried to imagine Germany slamming Austria against the conference table and reaping his rewards after shooting down his argument in a debate about regulations for recycled trash bags. He shook his head. It just wasn't the same. The world had become so unsexy.

"That's a proposition worth some consideration," France said with a chuckle. "But as much as I'd like that, I'd rather wait until he's a little less vulnerable."

"Didn't know you had standards," Prussia said.

"To be honest, I sometimes find myself wondering about that when I wake up to your snoring," France remarked.

Prussia didn't have the time to come up with a good retort because the doorbell interrupted their playful quarrel. France went to open and returned after a while with Spain in tow.

"Oh, so this isn't a meeting about border disputes after all. You lied to me, France," was the first thing Spain said as he entered the room and his eyes fell on Prussia on the couch. 

Prussia grinned and raised his glass in greeting. "Hey, I was tricked here with the promise of sex. At least you're getting something better than you were told," he said.

"Never mind him," France said and shoved a glass of wine into Spain's hand. "I'm of the opinion that you need to forget all your problems and move on, and it looks like you can't do that without a little prodding."

"Honestly, I'm fine," Spain said.

"Then we'll go out anyway and celebrate your new independence. I came all the way here, so I had better get something out of this," Prussia said.

And so they ended up in a club that France liked, but they soon realised that Spain wasn't having as much fun as he should have, so they switched to a bar where it was quieter and they could try to talk without screaming their throats raw. The first chance he got, Prussia slipped alcohol into Spain's hand and urged him to down it.

He caught France's eyes and lifted his brows, indicating that getting Spain drunk was his contribution in this affair. If there was going to be actual talking of feelings and relationships, France had better lead the battle on that front.

"So," France started. "Do you want to talk about the woes of love between you and Romano?"

"Why do you keep talking about that? I'm fine!" Spain insisted.

"And yet you're downing these with a pretty fast rate," Prussia said even as he was about to hand Spain another drink, which earned him an angry glare from France.

"Stop pouring that down his throat if you want me to go somewhere with this conversation," France said.

"Fine, fine," Prussia said and opted for downing the drink himself.

"I really don't have that much to say. I mean, I'd rather talk about something else. Like that mighty bruise you have," Spain said and pointed at Prussia's face.

"I hear he got to bed Hungary," France said.

"Oh! Congratulations!" Spain said and gave Prussia a hearty pat on the shoulder. It made Prussia realise that his little white lie had probably been a terrible idea. If Spain knew something, the whole world would soon know it. And that would end up with him having real injuries inflicted by Hungary. Plus, he didn't really want Spain to find out that he had actually got the bruise because he had been pissing off his ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "But don't tell anyone about it, okay? You know Hungary; she'd just deny the whole thing."

Spain hummed in agreement. "Yeah, she's always like that. She reminds me a little of Romano when she's in that mood," he said. He fell silent after that and only stared at his glass on the table.

"I'm going to miss him so much," he said then.

"Oh, it hurts now, but I'm sure you'll find someone else soon," France said diplomatically.

Someone who was hopefully far better and more attractive than Italy's ugly brother, Prussia thought, but he wasn't quite drunk enough to say such stupid things yet.

"You know, he was a little difficult, but there was just something so sincere about him. And I always felt so protective of him. I was always so sure I knew exactly what he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it," Spain continued. He lifted his glass and brought it to his mouth. After he had taken a sip, his lips formed a melancholy smile.

“Except recently, I guess. I had no idea he had matured so much that he wanted to take some responsibility in a relationship. It's going to take some time before I get used to the idea of my little Romano being all grown up," he said.

"So, if you didn't realise that before, that actually makes your relationship --" Prussia started, but France kicked him under the table.

"Oh, I know what you're getting at. I heard enough of those comments when I got together with him. And that's not what I meant. I mean that now that he's no longer so insecure, it's just natural that he wants to break free from me and pursue something of his own. It's not a bad thing," Spain said.

Prussia chose not to say anything to that. Had Spain been bawling his eyes out, he would have handed him more alcohol to make it better. Had he been cursing Romano and wishing death upon him, he would have urged him on. Had he wanted some awesome comfort sex, Prussia would have provided it. However, he had no idea how to react when Spain was obviously hurt but tried to see something good in it. It was too intricate and selfless for him to understand.

So, he decided to sit back and watch France comfort Spain. Prussia had no idea how France did it, but somehow he got an actual smile out of Spain – or maybe it was just the fact that Spain wasn't the kind of person who stayed down for too long. Either way, listening to their conversation made him feel like he had suddenly turned into a third wheel and that the two had forgotten he was even there.

With some annoyance, he grabbed one of the bottles on the table and poured himself another drink. It was better this way, he decided. He really didn't want to get involved in mushy crap like that in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Veneziano kept glancing at his brother over the breakfast table. Romano was munching on a piece of sweet bread that wasn't exactly a healthy way to start the day, but Veneziano had wanted to make sure he'd be happy this morning. Of course, he always wanted his brother to be happy, but this morning was a special case.

"How do you like the coffee?" he asked. He had gone out of his way to buy some Robusta beans at a store that sold Sicilian specialities. Coffee like that was a little too bitter for him, but Romano loved it.

"What is it that you want?" Romano asked as he lowered his cup.

Veneziano smiled innocently. "What do you mean?"

"This breakfast is abnormal. You've made all my favourite things, which can only mean that you have cooked up some sinister plan that I will no doubt hate," Romano said.

"Can't I just be nice to my brother every once in a while?" Veneziano asked.

Romano's glare and wary pout told him that his brother wasn't buying his act. Well, Veneziano supposed he had tried his best. He was sure that the nice breakfast had softened Romano somewhat, even if he was trying his damnest not to show that.

"Germany invited me to spend the weekend at his house, and I was hoping that you'd come with me," he said.

Romano, who had been in the process of finishing his coffee, suddenly sputtered and sounded like he had inhaled the entire contents of his cup. He dropped it on the table – it didn't break, thankfully – and pounded his fist against his chest in an attempt to ease his breathing.

"What the hell?" he asked once his coughing had subsided a little. "What makes you think I would ever want to go there?"

"Well, I just thought how nice it would be if we all spent some time together. I mean, I really, really like Germany, so I would like my brother to like him as well because I will probably be spending quite a lot of time with him in the future," Veneziano said.

"Bullshit! You and the muscled potato just want to get into each other's pants and you expect me to distract his ugly brother so that you can have some privacy. Forget it! I will not go to that damn place, and I will most certainly not be part of any plan that involves that German bastard coming within a five-metre radius of your a–"

"Romano! Stop! That's not it at all!" Veneziano said. Truth to be told, he wouldn't mind a small break from Prussia. Now that he was no longer a country, he didn't have the same powerful presence as before, but that never stopped him from trying to hog all the attention in the room. It made it a little difficult to get a moment alone with Germany, but Veneziano didn't have the heart to tell Prussia to leave. 

Which was why Romano coming along as a distraction served more than just one purpose. He hadn't lied when he had said that he hoped Romano and Germany would learn to get along a little better. It would save Veneziano (and Germany!) from a lot of headache, and he was sure his brother would be happier if he could get over his dislike for the blond nation, even just a little bit.

"It would make me so happy if you came with me. We could go sightseeing together and go to nice restaurants and –"

"German food sucks."

"- and then we could do something fun at Germany's house, like play board games or watch movies. It would be so much fun! Please come with me!" Veneziano continued. He grabbed a hold of Romano's hands over the table and squeezed them, bringing a pleading look onto his face. "Please! Please!"

"That's not fun! That's inhuman torture! I don't want any part in it!" Romano snarled and snatched his hands away. 

"But Romano --!"

"Forget it! I'm not coming!"

***

The following Friday, Romano found himself standing with Veneziano at the Berlin Tegel Airport. He had been sulking the whole flight, and he was sure that his bad mood was only going to increase. He couldn't believe that he had let Veneziano drag him into this. He had said no and meant it, but then his brother had looked at him with tears forming in his eyes and whined about how he didn't love him anymore.

Romano was sure his brother did it on purpose. He knew that Romano had no tolerance for his crying, and he abused that to his heart's content whenever he wanted something. And Romano was stupid enough to give in. He could have kicked himself.

That feeling turned into the desire to strangle himself when Germany came to pick them up. Veneziano dropped his luggage and threw himself at Germany, as if he hadn't seen him in an eternity.

"Germany!" Veneziano cooed, and the sight of his brother clinging to that bastard was enough to make Romano forget all about his earlier self-destructive desires. Now he just wanted to kick and strangle Germany.

He promptly dumped his bag on the ground and marched to grab a hold of Veneziano's arm. He separated his brother from Germany with force, ignoring Veneziano's surprised complaints. Then he started dragging him towards the exit. 

"Carry the luggage, asshole!" he yelled at Germany over his shoulder.

Some time later, they were all sitting in Germany's car. At first Romano thought it was brand new because there was no sand or trash anywhere and it even smelled like a new car, but then he realised that it was just another sign of Germany's anal-retentive obsession with order.

He wondered if his house would be like that as well. Romano had visited him only a handful of times, and each time he had mostly hung at the door and waited for his brother to drag himself outside. He didn't have any idea what German horrors would be awaiting him within those walls.

Germany's house was located in one of the better districts of the city, but it wasn't a huge mansion like many of the other buildings there. It looked even ascetic in comparison. There was a small garden with enough room for the dogs and some rose bushes that looked like someone was taking meticulous care of them.

"Well, here we are," Germany said and went to get the luggage out of the trunk.

"Looks like shit," Romano said.

Germany frowned but said nothing.

"Don't worry about Romano. He's just in a bad mood because the food they served on the flight was so terrible," Veneziano said as he clung to Germany's arm and made it nearly impossible for him to keep carrying the luggage towards the door.

"We flew Air Berlin. What the hell did you expect?" Romano asked. "And it's not like it's going to get any better. We're all going to die of food poisoning by the end of the weekend, except those two bastards because they're already immune to the crap that they –"

"Let's just get inside," German said in a voice that suggested he was counting to ten in his mind.

In the house, things only got worse. Prussia was lounging on the couch in the living room and looked up when they entered. 

"Hey, Ita-cakes!" he called out and raised a hand in greeting. There was no doubt which of the brothers he meant. Romano couldn't say he particularly cared what Prussia thought of him, but he couldn't help but feel annoyed at the lack of acknowledgement.

"Hello! Nice to see you again," Veneziano said happily.

"How was the flight?" Prussia asked.

"Terrible," Romano replied.

Prussia turned to look at him as if he had only now realised that Romano was present as well. Romano felt suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze when he remembered that Prussia was Spain's friend. He wondered what Spain had told him, whether he had needed to vent and had blamed it all on Romano.

But no, that wasn't like Spain. And it wasn't like Prussia needed an excuse to be a pain in the neck.

"Right, you're here, too," Prussia said.

"And what's up with that tone? I was invited!" Romano snapped.

"Certainly not by me, and I don't think West –"

"I'll show you where your rooms are," Germany cut in before the situation could develop into a disaster. Romano was certain it was only prolonging the inevitable, however. He shot a dirty glare at Veneziano, again cursing him for dragging him into this. To think that even now, he could be sitting at a café in Rome, enjoying the evening and eating something that didn't make his stomach turn...

Germany led them upstairs and opened the door to a small bedroom. He took Romano's luggage inside and placed it by the bed.

"You can stay here," he said.

Romano looked at the room. The interior was light and devoid of any personal belongings and signs of anyone using it regularly. Normally, he would have assumed that it was a guest room, but with Germany there was no way of knowing. Perhaps all of the rooms were like this.

"What about Veneziano?" he asked. The bed was was a little small for two people to sleep in it comfortably.

Germany turned to stare at the wall.

"I'll sleep with Germany, of course!" Veneziano announced.

"What?" Romano bellowed. "Since when?"

"Oh, we've been doing that for a long time now," Veneziano said.

Romano thoughts immediately went where he really, really didn't want them to go, though he couldn't claim he was surprised. Veneziano and Germany were sickeningly close, after all, but Germany always stayed at the guest room when he came to visit them. It was now, however, that Romano realised it didn't necessarily mean that Veneziano slept in his own room.

"You're not sleeping in the same room with that bastard," he growled, suddenly feeling a little protective.

"Yeah, I agree. He should sleep with me," said another voice from the door, and Romano turned around to see Prussia leaning against the door frame.

"Like hell!" Romano snapped.

"Well, why not? He always sleeps with West. I say it's only fair for me to get my share of Italy, too," Prussia said.

Romano was ready to jump at Prussia's throat, but Germany spoke before he had the time to do that.

"We'll just redo the sleeping arrangements. We only have this one guest room, but Italy and Romano can both sleep here," he said.

"But I want to sleep with Germany!" Veneziano complained.

"No way! I know exactly what he would do to you, and I'm not letting that happen," Romano said.

"But Romano!" Veneziano whined. His face was twisted in that same pleading expression that had made Romano agree to this trip in the first place, but this time his resistance was stronger. He lasted almost twenty seconds before he gritted his teeth turned to glare at Germany.

"Fine, you bastard! I don't know how you brainwashed my brother into wanting to sleep with you, but you had better enjoy it now because it's the last time it's ever going to happen! When we get back home I'm going to undo your manipulations on him and make sure he never comes back here!" he ranted.

Germany looked uncomfortable, but Veneziano melted into a delighted smile. Prussia was still watching the scene from the door, and Romano got the feeling that he was the one the former nation found the most entertaining.

Next, they took Veneziano's luggage to Germany's room, and Germany showed Romano where the bathroom was. He pointed at the two doors that stood right next to each other.

"Try to be careful when picking the door. The one on the right is a closet, and it's a little difficult to open from the inside," he said.

"Do you remember the time I picked the wrong door and woke up everyone when I couldn't get out?" Veneziano asked.

"Yes, all seven of them," Germany said.

Romano snorted, but then he suddenly thought of something. The house wasn't that big, and it looked like there were only four doors upstairs. There was Germany's room, the bathroom, the closet and the guest room.

"So, where exactly are you staying?" he asked as he turned to Prussia. 

Prussia's grin widened. "Hehe, planning to sneak into my room at night, are we?"

"No! I just want to make sure I know which room to stay the hell away from!"

"I guess I had better show you the most awesome place in the house, then! Come on!" Without a warning, Prussia grabbed Romano's wrist and started dragging him along. Romano complained and protested, but there was nothing he could do but follow.

They went downstairs and then through the kitchen to the utility room. There was a small side door that Prussia pushed open, revealing narrow stairs. He stopped and motioned for Romano to descend to the room below.

Romano hesitated for a moment, but then his curiosity got the best of him. He went down the stairs and found himself in a small storage room, or at least what was probably supposed to be a storage room. It was definitely full of junk, but he got the feeling that it had been placed there on purpose and not just to get it out of sight.

Against the western wall stood a desk with a computer and a few beer bottles by its side. It had a screensaver that featured a bunch of yellow chicks bouncing around. Other furniture in the room included a couch that looked like it doubled as a bed, a wardrobe and a shelf that was filled with CDs and video games. The walls were covered in dark posters of metal bands whose names had so many umlauts that it looked like someone had just waved a paint brush at the images.

"What is this shit? Am I supposed to be impressed by this?" Romano asked.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Prussia asked and observed the room with his hands on his hips.

"Why the hell do you live in the basement? Why not in the extra room upstairs?"

Prussia laughed. "West wouldn't let me redecorate it to my tastes, so I figured I'd move here. I can do whatever I want in here and nobody ever bothers me," he said.

"Pathetic. I had no idea you were such a loser," Romano said with a shake of his head.

"You're just jealous and awestruck by all this utter win," Prussia said.

"I'm out of here. I get sick just looking at this crap," Romano said. He turned around on his heels and marched up the stairs and back to the living room.

Veneziano and Germany were sitting on the couch. Germany was stiff like his spine had been replaced with a block of iron while Veneziano was doing his best to use him as a pillow. The expression on Germany's face became even more uncomfortable when he noticed Romano. 

It didn't take long before Prussia entered the room as well. He took a seat next to Veneziano in an obvious attempt to get some attention from him. It was then that Romano almost found himself feeling a small stab of sympathy for Germany. Even if he was the biggest bastard in the world, at least he didn't stare at Veneziano with that disgusting lewd smirk on his face.

God, this is going to be the longest weekend of my life, Romano thought. 

"Don't you serve any food here? I'm starving!" he complained. He was still feeling nauseous after the abomination he had tasted on the flight, but if forcing some German food down his throat was the only way to break that horrible threesome on the couch, so be it.

"Let's cook something, Germany!" Veneziano suggested. He jumped on his feet and took Germany's hand, pulling him up and dragging him to the kitchen.

Romano very much didn't want to be left alone with Prussia, so he announced that he was going to his room and that someone had better come and get him when dinner was ready.

***

Prussia watched how Italy and Germany disappeared into the kitchen and Romano marched upstairs. He crossed his hands behind his head and enjoyed the feeling of having the whole couch just for himself. He fell on his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a loud bang when Romano slammed the door to his room shut, and after that all Prussia could hear was Italy's happy chatter from the kitchen.

There was never this much tension when Italy came to visit them alone. Sure, his brother was always trying to stop Prussia from towering over the cute nation, but the atmosphere wasn't overly hostile. Adding Romano to the equation had completely changed the dynamics, and Prussia was sure that the weekend would end in disaster.

Though it is fun to watch him bitch at West, he mused with a grin.

He wondered if Romano was always in such a pissy mood. He couldn't recall ever seeing him smile; he was always pouting, screaming his head off or looking like he was going to burst into tears. Spain either had the patience of a saint or Romano was so amazing in bed that it made up for his lack of social skills.

Prussia weighed these options for a moment before deciding that Spain really was that patient and dim-witted. He couldn't bring himself to imagine Romano willingly in bed with anyone. He probably just blushed a deep shade of red, spat out curses and fought back like a wild cat.

If Romano were anywhere near as cute as Italy, Prussia might have entertained thoughts of taming him. As it was, the southern side of the country was of very little interest to him outside the fact that he was really good at pissing off Germany.

After a while, lying all alone on the couch was starting to get a little boring. Prussia decided to go to the kitchen, not because he wanted to help or anything but because Italy was so adorable and domestic when he was cooking. It was fun to watch, especially since Germany insisted on him wearing an apron so that he wouldn't get his clothes messy.

Prussia shoved aside the vegetables on the kitchen counter and jumped to sit on it.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Germany commented.

"What exactly are you cooking?" Prussia asked. It didn't look like anything Veneziano had made before, but it didn't smell like Germany's cooking either.

"We're trying something new. We can't make good Italian food because your ingredients just don't taste right, but I don't think Romano is going to like _Knödel_ or anything like that. So we're just throwing lots of good stuff into this and making a stew," Veneziano explained.

"Sounds cool." 

Had it been just Germany, Prussia might have been worried about this approach. However, Italy could do magic in the kitchen. Everything that he touched somehow transformed into a delicious culinary experience.

He watched Italy and Germany continue with their cooking, but somehow it wasn't as much fun as usual. Prussia couldn't help but notice how well the two worked together. Italy didn't have to ask for Germany to hand him the sliced sausage; Germany knew exactly when to do it even though he couldn't be familiar with the recipe for this dish. And the smile that Italy flashed at Germany when he tried to force him to taste their stew cut deeper than ever before.

He slid off the counter. Staying here was a complete waste of his time.

"You could help us, you know," Germany said when he noticed Prussia leave.

"Nah, I've got more important things to do," Prussia remarked.

He realised too late that he had walked into the living room. Shit, he should have gone to the basement instead. He didn't really feel like sitting on the couch anymore, especially since his brother could see him from the kitchen.

He cracked his knuckles as an idea hit him. Maybe he'd go and say hello to their difficult guest.

"Hi!" Prussia said and pushed open the door to Romano's room.

Romano had been lying on his bed, but he sat up in alarm when Prussia entered.

"What the hell? Have you never heard of knocking?" he asked.

"What does it matter? Were you having some awesome time with yourself?"

"No!" Romano's face turned red. He grabbed a pillow from behind him and hurled it at Prussia. Since it wasn't a kettle, Prussia didn't bother to dodge.

"Hehe, you sure like throwing things at me. Maybe this could be our thing," he said and went to take a seat on the chair that stood by the window.

"What do you want?" Romano asked. He was glaring at Prussia warily from under his brows, his shoulders hunched and fists clenched into balls. He looked so pissed off that Prussia couldn't help but chuckle.

"I just decided to take pity on you and come say hello. I mean, you must be pretty bored in this lame room."

"That's none of your business!"

"Why did you even come here if you hate it so much?"

"What do you think? To make sure that your bastard brother doesn't completely corrupt mine."

Prussia thought back to the current harmony in the kitchen. "You're a bit too late for that," he said.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Please," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. "They sleep in the same room. In the same bed. You can't really protect Italy from West anymore."

Romano gritted his teeth, and the blush on his face grew an angrier shade of red. "Maybe," he growled. "But that's not all! I've seen how you look at Veneziano! Maybe it's too late to save his idiot ass from Germany, but I'm not letting you make a move and try to force him into a threesome or something equally disgusting!" 

Prussia had no choice but to laugh and run his fingers through his hair. "You have some imagination! I never thought I'd hear that from the country where the Pope lives. Or is this Spain's influence?" he asked.

"Fuck you! First of all, the Pope doesn't live in my country! He has his own, you stupid moron. And what I did with Spain is none of your business!"

Romano was panting through gritted teeth, and Prussia was certain the situation would develop into a fight if he said the right thing. It was a while since he had last trashed anything at Germany's house, so he opened his mouth and –

There was a knock on the door, and right after Italy pushed it open and poked his head in.

"Romano, the dinner is almost – Oh, you're here, too, Prussia. How nice that you two are making friends!" 

"Not fucking likely," Romano said, got off the bed and marched to the door without another word at either of them.

"You should come, too. The stew will get cold," Italy said before going after his brother.

Prussia wasted no time following him. As he entered the kitchen, he saw that Romano was already complaining about the food to Germany who was looking increasingly more constipated as the situation developed.

And it was just Friday evening. Prussia couldn't wait to see if they'd all still be alive on Monday or if the map of Europe would have to be redrawn.


	4. Chapter 4

When Romano opened his eyes, it was still dim. Some light was pouring in through the curtains, and he squeezed his eyes shut and turned around so that he wouldn't have to see it. Whatever time it was, it was too early to get up.

Before he could get back to sleep, however, he realised that the bed felt unfamiliar and smelled wrong. He rolled over on his back and sat up warily, not recognising the room where he was. Then, as his mind slowly cleared, he remembered everything.

Dammit, he thought. It hadn't been a nightmare. He really was in Germany.

He was sure he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after that dreadful revelation, no matter how much he wanted to curl up and just forget all about it. He closed his eyes and rubbed them to get the sleep from his head and decided to get up, even if it was early for him.

The house was entirely silent as he stepped out of his room and went to the bathroom. It was the left door, he reminded himself. He wasn't stupid like his brother.

Everything was still quiet after Romano emerged from the bathroom some fifteen minutes later, feeling considerably more awake after a quick shower. When he glanced at the cuckoo clock that was hanging on the wall, he saw that it was a little past seven. 

Surely at least the bastard should be awake by now, he thought as he made his way downstairs. However, there was nobody in the living room or the kitchen. Feeling a little creeped out by the silence, Romano wondered if he should go and wake up Veneziano. But to do that, he'd have to go to Germany's bedroom, and he didn't even want to imagine what he might see there.

He sat down on the couch and drew up his legs under him. It was a little cold that early in the morning despite it being summer. Romano figured he should probably go back to his room, but there was nothing for him to do there. If he was just going to sit and waste his time, he might just as well do it here.

Just as he was finished with this thought, the front door was opened and someone came in. When Romano turned to look, he saw Germany enter the living room with a large paper bag in his hand.

"Oh, you're awake. Good morning," Germany said.

"Where have you been?" Romano asked in suspicion.

Germany lifted the bag. "The bakery just opened, so I went to get some fresh bread."

Oh. Well, Romano was getting hungry, so he couldn't really get upset about that.

"And where's Veneziano?" he asked.

Germany turned to glance at the ceiling. "Still asleep, I think," he said. He hesitated for a long time before he nodded towards the kitchen. "I'm going to start making breakfast. Do you want to help?"

"What trick are you trying to pull?" Romano asked. He wasn't often alone with Germany, and he couldn't help but be suspicious of his politeness. Surely he was just trying to win him over so that he'd have easier access to Veneziano. Or maybe it was a trap. He shouldn't trust him.

Germany sighed and headed towards the kitchen without another word.

Romano remained on the couch for a few more moments. The first time his stomach growled, he ignored it. The second time he got up and walked to the kitchen.

Germany glanced at him as he entered but still said nothing.

"Don't get any funny ideas! I'm just here to make sure you don't completely ruin the breakfast!" Romano announced.

For a while, he observed Germany cutting small slices out of sausage. Then he went to take a knife and cut the bread that Germany had just brought. The silence that hung between them was awkward and heavy, so Romano put all his concentration on his work and tried to forget that he was doing something to help the stupid bastard.

After some time and slipping a few pieces of bread into his mouth, he felt his frown disappear. It was actually quite pleasant to work on something to eat.

"So..." Germany started.

And the fucker had to go and ruin it.

"What?" Romano growled.

"I wish we could talk to each other without fighting all the time," Germany said.

"Stop messing around with my brother, and I'll consider it."

"I can understand that you're worried, but..." Germany said, and every word sounded like it was being pulled out with a corkscrew. He stopped the work with the sausage, as if speaking demanded all of his concentration.

"Oh, I know what you're going to say, so don't waste your breath. I don't want to hear about how you care for him and would never hurt him and only want the best for him. The fact is that my brother is too good for you, but he's as stupid as a box of rocks and can't see that. Which is why it's up to me to make sure he doesn't waste his time with a bastard like you!" Romano ranted.

"It's actually none of your business," Germany said in a strained voice.

"Of course it is! He's my brother! I know what's the best for him!"

The situation would probably have developed into the usual spectacle of Romano screaming his head off at Germany, but it was then that the door to the utility room was pushed open and Prussia's ghost staggered into the kitchen. 

Or at least he looked like a ghost with that messy hair, blood-shot eyes and a complexion so pale that he couldn't be anything but dead.

"Fuck, zip it, you two. I'm trying to sleep," he mumbled as he leaned against the door frame so that he wouldn't fall over.

"Did you stay up all night playing with your computer again?" Germany asked in exasperation. "I thought we agreed that we'd get up early and go to see the city."

"It was all your idea. I didn't agree to anything," Prussia grumbled. 

Neither had Romano, but he wasn't going to take Prussia's side even against Germany, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Go and take a shower. You look terrible," Germany said.

Prussia kept muttering something under his breath, but he did end up following his brother's advice. Romano watched him disappear through he door, and while he didn't want to talk to Germany any more than was necessary, he just couldn't remain silent.

"And I thought Prussia was known for punctuality and efficiency," he said. That wreck that had just dragged himself through the kitchen wouldn't inspire awe or fear in any nation, not even non-existent ones like Sealand.

He wasn't really sure what reaction he was expecting to get out of Germany, but it certainly wasn't the sorrowful look that entered his eyes.

"That was a long time ago," he said.

Romano could feel the awkwardness-meter suddenly point much higher than before, so he turned his attention back to the bread and didn't utter another word for as long as he was alone with Germany.

***

Breakfast was relatively free of further incidents. Veneziano was in a cheery mood. The food wasn't actually half bad. The only problem, as far as Romano was concerned, was that Germany and Prussia were there.

Prussia looked a little more like himself again and kept throwing cheeky comments at Veneziano, obviously thinking he was being suave and funny. And poor Veneziano was laughing and smiling like the idiot he was. Romano wanted to throw up.

Worst of all, Prussia was picking out crumbs from his bread and feeding them to the little bird that always hung around him.

"Do you have to keep doing that? It's disgusting!" Romano snapped.

"But Romano, isn't he cute?" Veneziano asked. He took a crumb from his roll, offered it to the bird and giggled when he ate it all up.

"I agree with your brother. Prussia, how many times have I told you not to bring that thing to the table?" Germany said.

"Don't be such a spoilsport, West. He's not doing anything."

"Nevertheless. It's unhygienic to have animals at the table," Germany said. "And you should put him in your room anyway. You can't bring him to the Reichstag."

Prussia made a disgusted face. "Don't tell me you're planning to drag us there. I thought we were going to do something fun today."

"It's a very educational and inspiring building," Germany said.

"And the view from the top is wonderful! I never get tired of seeing Berlin from there! Romano hasn't seen it, so we really have to go!" Veneziano added.

And so they did, and it was even worse than Romano had expected. Germany demanded that they all should dress in their finest because they couldn't go to the Reichstag wearing old, black T-shirts with slogans that would get them stopped at the security check, as he told Prussia. The two had a fight about that, but Prussia finally gave in and agreed to wear something else.

The next problem emerged when they arrived at the Reichstag. There was a long line of people waiting to get through the security check and be let inside. Against all expectations, Germany motioned for them to take a place in the line.

"What the hell? You could just get us in there right away!" Prussia complained.

"That's not right. We have to wait like everyone else," Germany said.

"That's going to take all day! We could just march to the door and demand to be let in! In fact, that's exactly what I'll do!"

"They won't listen to you."

Prussia's arrogant pose crumbled at Germany's words, and he crossed his arms on his chest. "Fine," he grumbled. "If you want to waste this awesome day here, whatever."

They waited. The sun rose higher, and it was starting to get uncomfortably hot. The line was moving agonizingly slowly, and Romano estimated that it would be at least an hour before their turn came. As the minutes passed by, he found himself agreeing with Prussia at an alarming rate. If Germany could save them from this, why the hell did that ass not do it?

Their group was far from the only idiots who thought waiting in line to get into some stupid building was a great way to spend a beautiful Saturday. To Romano's horror, he realised that some of the tourists in line were his people. What the hell? Did they really have nothing better to do?

To add salt to his wounds, the line went straight through a large, grassy area. It was filled with people enjoying the sun, drinking soda, listening to music and generally having a great time and not being complete losers. 

"It's too hot. I'm going to go and get something to drink," Prussia announced.

"If you leave, you will lose your place in line," Germany rumbled in a threatening voice.

Prussia shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered something under his breath. Romano figured that he probably agreed with it even if he didn't understand a word. Germany was being even more of an irritating slave-driver than usual, and he couldn't understand why.

Romano gritted his teeth and loosened his tie. As he did so, he glanced at Veneziano and wondered why his brother wasn't whining and complaining about having to wait. He looked suspiciously content, leaning against Germany's arm and chatting about some happy nonsense. Seeing that only added to Romano's irritation, and he had to bite his lip in an effort not to snap.

He wasn't the only one whose patience was growing thin.

"You know, to hell with this!" Prussia snarled, tore off his tie and dumped it to the ground along with his jacket. He marched to the closest group of people sitting in the grass, grabbed a bottle from their mini fridge and invited himself over to sit with them. Fortunately for him, the people were cool with that once they got over their surprise.

"Oh, that looks nice!" Veneziano said. "Romano, you should go as well!"

"What --" Romano managed to ask, but he was cut off when he felt two hands give him a hearty shove that sent him stumbling from the line. 

He turned around, glaring furiously at his brother. "What the hell was that for?" He took a step towards Veneziano, but Germany's voice stopped him.

"You lost your place in line."

"The hell I did! He pushed me!"

"Sorry. But you can go back to the end. We'll wait for you when we get inside," Veneziano suggested.

Romano turned to look towards the end of the line that was at least half an hour's worth of waiting away. Then he turned to stare at Veneziano's innocent smile. It was too innocent. That idiot had done this on purpose just to get rid of him so that he could spend the day with Germany!

It was partly the heat, partly the irritation of having to waste so much time waiting for nothing, but at that moment he felt such hatred towards his brother that he was sure his chest would tear open. Veneziano had begged him to come to this horrible country with him, and then he dumped him the first chance he got.

"Fuck you," he snarled, feeling utterly rejected. He turned to send a hateful glare in Germany's direction. "And fuck you, too!"

"Romano, you're making a scene," Veneziano said.

"And whose fault is that? But fine, it's not like I wanted to go to that stupid place anyway! I'm much better off on my own!"

Wishing something painful on his brother and Germany (mostly Germany), Romano turned around on his heels and started marching through the field. He didn't care where he was going as long as he got the hell away from the others. In the back of his mind he knew that he shouldn't be separated from them in an unfamiliar city, but he wasn't known for thinking rationally when he got upset.

He didn't stop until he had stomped through at least five streets whose names he couldn't even begin to pronounce. Romano looked around, but he had no idea where he was or which direction he had come from.

Dammit, he thought in frustration. It was like he was trapped. There was nowhere for him to go. Every place in this country felt hostile, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back home where he knew what to do and was safe.

He gave the pavement a good kick, but it didn't make him feel much better. In fact, it made everything worse. God, he was useless. His own brother didn't want to spend the day with him, and then he got lost, and all he could do about it was to have a tantrum in public.

If Veneziano wanted to spend the day with Germany, why hadn't he said so? Romano would have complained about it, but he wouldn't have actually tried to do much to stop him. Did Veneziano think so little of him that he had to fucking trick him like this to get a moment alone with his ugly boyfriend?

"Boo!"

Romano yelped and whirled around when he felt two hands on his shoulders. He didn't know whether to be relieved or upset that it was Prussia.

"What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry, I just had to surprise you. You looked like you had no idea what was going on around you," Prussia said.

Romano took a defensive step back. "What are you doing here? Did they send you after me?"

"Nah, I got tired of watching your brother get all kissy kissy with West back there, so I decided to ditch them. It's just a coincidence I ran into you," Prussia said with a lazy shrug.

Romano simply crossed his arms on his chest and turned to glare away. Deep inside, he was glad that he now had someone who knew where to go, but he couldn't let Prussia know that he had got lost in the first place.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Prussia start walking down the street. What, was he just going to leave him here and go off on his own?

"Where are you going, asshole?" he asked.

Prussia turned back to look at him. "I don't know. Somewhere where there's something going on. Do you want to come with me? I could show you a lot more fun places in Berlin than West even knows exist!"

"I've had enough of this city, but I guess I have nothing better to do. I might just as well keep you company since nobody else wants to be with a loser like you," Romano grumbled. His feet carried him to Prussia a little faster than he wanted them to, but he just didn't like the idea of being left alone again.

Prussia slapped him on the back and let out a cackle. "Looks like it's older brother time! Let's show those two that we can have so much more fun when they aren't around!"

"You had better not drag me into anything stupid!"

"Hey, what do you take me for?" 

The grin on Prussia's face told Romano that his fate was sealed. He could only hope that he'd survive the day and that if he didn't, Veneziano would declare a vendetta and avenge him.

***

The first place that Prussia showed him took Romano entirely by surprise. He had been expecting some kind of seedy bar or maybe a torture lair, but Prussia actually led him to a small pet store.

"I just need to pick up something for my bird," Prussia explained as Romano shot a questioning look at him.

"Sure," Romano said and walked to take a look at a red parrot that was sitting by the counter. Other than that, there weren't any interesting animals at the store, only some mice, fish and small reptiles. Most of the things on sale seemed to be food items.

"Hey, Gilbert! I haven't seen you around in a while," the store owner said as Prussia walked to the counter with a bag of bird seeds.

"Been busy," Prussia said.

"You totally should have been here last week. We had really adorable bunnies, but we sold them right away," the owner said.

Romano tore his attention from the parrot and shot a curious glance in Prussia's direction.

"Yeah, well, like I said, I had stuff to do," Prussia said and hastily took some money from his wallet.

"But I took some photos for you. Look, aren't they cute? I hope to get some more by Wednesday, so you should drop by and take a look. Maybe you can finally convince that brother of yours to get one," the owner said. He reached under the counter to take out some pictures and nearly shoved them at Prussia's face.

Prussia looked undecided for a moment, but whatever he was seeing in the photos finally won, and the widest smirk ever took over his features.

“Aww, these are adorable! You've got to call me when the next patch arrives,” he said.

“Sure thing! The breeder promised there'll be a few white ones, too.”

“Yeah, those are the best.”

Romano couldn't help but grow curious, so he walked behind Prussia to get a look at the photos. He was half-expecting them to contain something completely different than bunnies. Or bunnies in contexts that he'd rather not think about. Maybe the pet store was a front for a perverted porn shop or something.

However, the pictures couldn't have been more innocent. They showed a large number of brown and grey bunnies huddled together, eating carrots and just being generally adorable. It was quite a contrast to the skull posters he had seen in Prussia's room.

“I didn't think you'd be into this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I'm into birds, kittens and puppies, too. And pandas. Got a problem with that?” Prussia asked as he handed the photos back to the owner.

Hah, so the bastard wasn't such a tough guy after all. Before he could stop it, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. 

"Are you laughing at me?" Prussia asked. Then his eyes widened. "Hey, you _are_ laughing at me! Wow, I didn't know you could do that!"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Prussia poked a finger under Romano's ribs and got a surprised yelp out of him. "And now it's gone. You shouldn't take everything so personally, Italy's brother."

"Don't call me that!"

Prussia ignored him and turned to talk to the owner again. “Listen, I kind of have to go. I've got a guest I need to show around," Prussia said and pointed at Romano with his thumb.

“Sure. Say hi to Gilbird for me!”

"And your bird's name is Gilbird?" Romano asked as they stepped out of the store.

"Yeah, cool, huh?"

Romano snorted. "You're so full of yourself."

"Well, why wouldn't I be when I'm this awesome?"

Romano wasn't sure how long they spent walking around, poking their heads into stores and never actually buying anything. Prussia kept pointing various buildings to him, but he couldn't say he found them particularly interesting or impressive.

“Stop making that face and try to have fun for once," Prussia said.

"Maybe I could do that if you showed me something interesting. I thought you said you knew better places than your brother, but so far they have all sucked. I should have stayed with Veneziano and the bastard."

"Yeah, and then you'd have watched them cling to each other all day."

Before Romano could answer, Prussia had pointed towards a blue sign that marked the entrance to the U-Bahn.

"Look, I know what will cheer you up. Let's go to Alex," he said.

It was only when they got off the U-Bahn that Romano realised Alex wasn't some shady friend of Prussia's and that he had been talking about Alexanderplatz. Another surprise was that so many people were gathered at the square to watch some kind of performance that was being held on stage. A few others were drawing something on the ground with chalk while others were lounging on couches that they had somehow dragged outside.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Prussia had his hands on his hips and was observing everything with pride. "They do this sometimes on weekends. There's music, some alternative theatre and stuff like that. I thought you'd like it since you're always bitching about how everything in Germany is so stuffy and boring."

"That's because it is," Romano said, but his words lacked the usual ire. He couldn't help it; being surrounded by so many people who were having fun had a soothing effect on his temper.

"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. See if there's any place for us by the fountain and I'll be right back," Prussia said.

Romano had been so occupied with his other negative thoughts that he hadn't even realised how late it was getting. They hadn't had any lunch, and he suddenly became all too aware of the fact that he was starving.

Prussia was soon back with something that looked suspiciously like the fast food that was being sold at little stands on street corners, but Romano was too hungry to complain. Besides, Prussia had been considerate enough to get him a dish that had neither potatoes or sausages. For some time, they simply sat by the fountain and watched the improvised play on the stage.

"See, you aren't frowning. Admit it that you're finally enjoying yourself," Prussia said.

"I'm just glad I finally got something to eat. You're a terrible host; you should have given me food much earlier!" Romano replied.

Prussia didn't look one bit put off by his comment. "Then you can at least admit that the food was good." 

"When you're hungry, anything goes."

"You're really negative, you know that? There has to be some secret side to you that explains why Italy likes you so much," Prussia said. He gave Romano a poke to the arm, but Romano was too surprised by his words to shove his hand away.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, I figure there has to be something more to you than the bitching pitbull if –"

"Not that, you moron! What did you say about my brother?"

Prussia looked at him funnily. "Every time he comes here, he keeps talking about you and how much he wants you and West to get along. I figure it's really important to him, though I can't see why. If I had a boyfriend and West hated him, I wouldn't give a damn about his opinion."

Romano kept staring at the performance, though he wasn't really seeing it. It was nothing new that Veneziano wanted him to accept Germany. Sometimes it was the only thing he ever talked about. But hearing someone else say it made it seem different somehow. 

The thought of someone else noticing that Veneziano cared about him felt comfortably warm. There were times when Romano was sure he was just a burden to his brother and too difficult for anyone to love. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty about how much headache he was causing to Veneziano, but he didn't know how to change that. It wasn't that he really hated Germany, but...

Prussia wiped the grease on his hands on his trousers, apparently not caring that they were part of a suit. He got on his feet and went to pick up a piece of chalk that someone had left on the ground. After a moment of consideration, he started drawing something on the ground.

Romano walked up to him so that he could watch the progress over his shoulder. He couldn't say he was surprised when he realised that it was a giant chick.

When he noticed Romano, Prussia stopped his work for a moment and turned to look at the square once more.

"This place used to be all mine, you know," he said.

"Back when there was a Prussia?" 

"Yeah, but even later. Alex was in the East," Prussia said. He resumed drawing the image, but his strokes were lazy, and Romano got the feeling that not even half of his attention was in it anymore.

"It was greater when it was mine, of course," Prussia said. A pause. "Okay, that was a lie. It was a shitty time when the Wall was up. It's all better now that it all belongs to West. He's really good at taking care of things."

"He's a slave-driver. All meetings led by him are torture," Romano said.

Prussia laughed. "He's efficient, alright. I don't know how he does all that. Meetings here, paperwork there. Keeping fighting politicians in line, being up to date on all the laws. You know, being a nation."

Prussia stopped drawing in mid-movement and stared down at the picture in silence. After a while, he casually tossed the piece of chalk at his feet and stood up, brushing his hands on the knees of his trousers.

"But I'm better off without all that crap," he said. When he turned to look at Romano, his usual, wide grin was back. Romano had never before seen someone look so sad while smiling from ear to ear.

"I mean, who wants to wake up early, go to boring meetings and think about laws? Not me! Look what a stick in the mud West is because of that. I'd rather be his annoying, good-for-nothing brother than that any day!" Prussia continued.

Romano knew that this was the moment when he was supposed to say something comforting and wise.

"God, you're even uglier than usual when you're miserable! Let's get out of here and get you a beer or something," he said.

"Now you're starting to speak my language! I guess my has awesomeness been rubbing off to you all day."

***

Romano and Prussia were well on their way to getting wasted when Veneziano and Germany found them at some bar. Germany proceeded to scold Prussia for being irresponsible and not answering his calls even though he had tried to reach him for hours.

"Did you have fun today?" Veneziano asked as he snuggled up closer to his brother.

"Hell no," Romano said. "And it's all your fault! Why did you do that to me? If you wanted to spend the day with that bastard, you could have told me so! It's no problem; I know when I'm not wanted!"

Veneziano spent a moment staring at him in horror. "No, no! It's not that at all! I wasn't trying to get rid of you! I just thought you'd have more fun with Prussia because you were already making friends yesterday, but I know what you're like so I thought you wouldn't go with him if I didn't make you!" he explained.

"You could have asked," Romano grumbled and lifted his glass to down the rest of his drink, but Veneziano grabbed it from him before he could do it.

"Don't drink so much, Romano! It's making you crankier than usual."

"Give that back! You have no right to lecture to me after the way you treated me today!"

Veneziano's shoulders slumped. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. "Did you have a terrible time?" he asked.

"It was alright," Romano said. It was enough to ease Veneziano's worries, and his brother immediately clung to him and proclaimed how happy he was that Romano had had fun.

“I'm sorry I tricked you and made Germany help me. Please don't be angry at him. It was all my idea that we should go to the Reichstag and trick you and Prussia to leave. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing,” Veneziano said.

“I already said it was alright,” Romano said.

“Yes, but we still have to be here tomorrow, so I want to talk this through now so that you won't grumble about it all the time.”

As he tried to ignore his brother's constant babbling, Romano's eyes moved to their left where Germany was still telling Prussia off. The longer the conversation lasted, the louder Prussia was laughing at his brother's anger.

He looked just like when they had been talking at Alexanderplatz. Romano wanted to turn his eyes away, but he suddenly felt like he was seeing Prussia for the first time in his life. How come he had never before noticed how obviously fake many of the things he said and did were?

He thought back to Germany's house. Maybe that small room in the basement was an attempt to have something of his own, something that nobody in their right mind would think belonged to Germany.

God, I'm so drunk, Romano thought. His thoughts weren't making any sense anymore.

"Would you get off me already?" he snarled and tried to shove his brother away. "And get me some water," he quickly added. There had to be something he could do to clear his head before he got more stupid ideas, he decided.


	5. Chapter 5

Prussia had gone to bed at a decent hour (which for him was around two in the morning), so he was able to drag himself up before Germany came to pound on his door. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand as he entered the kitchen and went about with his morning routine. It was always the same – have some breakfast made by Germany, down it with coffee that was also made by him and browse through the newspaper, leaving it a total mess.

This Sunday, however, something was wrong. The breakfast was there, yes. So was the Frankfurter Allgemeine. What was missing was the pleasant scent of coffee that usually greeted him when he emerged from the basement.

Prussia glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten. There was absolutely no explanation for why there wasn't fresh coffee in the kitchen. His first thought was that Germany had ended up having some quality time with Italy and was so spent that he had lacked the energy to make coffee for him, but since the breakfast was there, it couldn't be.

Oh, well. Prussia could make his own coffee. No problem. He snatched a sandwich from the table, stuffed half of it into his mouth and opened the cupboard where he supposed the coffee was.

It wasn't there. Maybe his memory wasn't as good as he thought – it was a while since he had made any coffee himself, after all. Prussia opened the second cupboard, only to receive the same miserable result.

"Looking for something?"

Prussia turned around when he heard Romano's grumpy voice.

"Yeah. Coffee," he said.

"Don't waste your time, asshole. It's not there."

"Wow, it's just morning and you're already bitching at me. Did you have too much to drink yesterday or did you stay up past your bedtime?" Prussia asked as he slammed the door of the cupboard shut. 

"It's your damn fault that there's no coffee!"

For a moment Prussia stared at Romano's angry face. His words were actually ringing some distant bells, but his mind wasn't working quite as fast as it was supposed to.

"Run that by me again," he said.

"The bastard says that it was your job to buy groceries on Friday and that he asked you to buy more coffee," Romano said.

Oh, right. Prussia could remember that all too well. Germany always kept a list of what they had and when they needed to restock. On Friday, he had drilled it into Prussia's head that he had to get everything they needed because he was too busy cleaning the house for their guests' arrival.

"Looks like I forgot," he said and ran his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, we all noticed."

Romano's scowl was so deep and accusing that Prussia couldn't imagine him looking angrier even if he found Prussia in bed with Italy. He opened his mouth to tell him to stop that or his face would be stuck that way, but then he realised that this was already Romano's default expression.

"Cheer up. We'll just go and buy some right now," he said.

"It's Sunday, you idiot!"

"There's a store open at the station on Friedrichstraße. West knows that, so you can just as well stop blaming me for this," Prussia said.

"He's off somewhere with Veneziano. They won't be back for a few more hours, so I'm well within my rights to blame you," Romano replied. "And besides, you're a loser if you expect your little brother to clean up all the messes you make. Then again, I guess I can't expect more from someone who's not even a real nation anymore."

"Look who's talking."

"It's not the same thing at all! I actually represent half of the country. It's my soil, my cities, my people. You have nothing," Romano said.

Alright, that stung more than Prussia wanted to admit. 

"Hey, I already told you that I like it this way. Have fun dealing with politics and all that crap," he said and plastered his face with his trademark grin. It had used to send chilling fear into his enemies on the battlefield; it had shown the whole world how strong and confident he was.

"Loser," Romano said.

"You should give it a try. It's fun being free," Prussia said, even as he was already on his way to the basement to get changed. He made sure to pick up his wallet while he was there. Usually he paid everything with Germany's debit card, but he didn't want to make Romano think he was dependant on his brother or anything like that – the fact that he got most of his money from Germany as an allowance needn't be mentioned.

"You coming?" he asked when he returned to the kitchen and saw that Romano was still there.

"I have to or else you'll forget the coffee again."

"Just admit it that you want to spend more time with me because you had so much fun yesterday."

"Like hell."

"Then how come you didn't go with West and Italy?"

Romano looked to his side at this question. "I just didn't feel like going with them," he said, his voice lacking the ire that it had carried.

"Yeah, whatever," Prussia said and didn't press the issue. He could relate. There were times when he hated being with his brother and Italy. It wasn't that he was jealous; he was more than content with his freedom and the occasional sex with France. Sometimes it just really ruined the mood to see those two holding hands or Italy trying to trick Germany into lowering his face so that he could surprise him with a kiss.

But even though Prussia was totally not bothered by any of that, he guessed that Romano was since he had only recently broken up with Spain.

Since Germany never left his car keys within Prussia's reach, they had to take a bus to the closest U-Bahn station so that they could get to Friedrichstraße. Prussia loved the U-Bahn. All sorts of people used it, and it was always fascinating to watch normal people calm down and fall into their thoughts for the duration of the journey. Whether it was a single mother with a child or an old drunkard, it was never boring.

That was probably the main reason Germany preferred driving his own car. Sometimes it was difficult for Prussia to understand just what had gone wrong with his brother for him to end up with such a stick up his ass.

Prussia didn't even try to hide that he was staring at Romano all through the ride. Once Romano noticed that, he turned to glare at the floor with a displeased frown on his face, but Prussia didn't mind. Nothing usually caught his attention for long, but in the U-Bahn there was time to really look at others and try to guess what they were thinking.

Romano looked like he was wishing death upon someone. Prussia, on the other hand, found himself wishing that he could see a real smile on that face, just to find out if Romano could look even half as cute as his brother.

Probably not, he figured. Nobody could be as cute as Italy.

The store was small and there was barely any space between the aisles, so two people had a hard time passing each other, especially if they were carrying something. Prussia's original plan had been to just snatch the coffee and go, but that proved to be impossible. He was always distracted by things he didn't need. That was actually why he had forgotten the coffee in the first place.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Romano asked as he watched Prussia fill his shopping basket with potato chips, peanut curls and bags of little pretzel-shaped snacks.

"Yeah, they're really handy when I'm so busy that I don't have the time to have dinner," Prussia said.

"Busy doing what?" Romano asked.

"Important things." Prussia supposed Romano wouldn't see marathons of WoW or Modern Warfare as the awesome things that they were. Since they had actually had a few lines of conversation without Romano insulting him, he figured he'd try to keep it that way.

"Whatever. As if I want to know," Romano said.

Prussia wandered around the store, picking a few more items off the shelf until he was sure that he had everything. They went to stand on the line, which was going agonizingly slowly.

"Figures," Romano muttered. "Only in your stupid country there are so many idiots who can't plan their grocery shopping even though there's only one day in a week when the stores are closed."

Well, there was the end of their nice conversation right there. Better luck next time.

"You should just be happy there are a few places open so that we could get the --" Prussia started, but then he felt a shiver of foreboding go down his spine and settle somewhere in his stomach. Crap, he had forgotten the coffee again.

As if reading his thoughts, Romano took something from behind his back and placed it on the conveyor belt. It was a jar of coffee powder.

"Oh, good thinking," Prussia said. "You passed my test. I wanted to see if you'd remember the coffee, so that's why I didn't get it myself."

Romano said nothing, but the glare he sent to Prussia's direction spoke volumes about whether he believed his bullshit explanation or not. They picked up their items and walked out to wait for their ride back to Germany's house.

Prussia stuck his hand into the shopping bag and rummaged around. "Here. This is for you," he said and handed Romano a chocolate bar. Maybe it would get him to cheer up a little.

"It's not Belgian," Romano said and turned the bar over in his hands.

"Shit," Prussia said and ran his fingers through his hair. "You're really starting to piss me off, you know? I'm trying to be nice to you over here, and you just bitch at me every chance you get. There's a point when it stops being funny and becomes just annoying."

"I never asked you to be nice to me! Besides, you're doing a crappy job at it!"

"No, I'm not! I'm the best at being nice to people! You're just too difficult!"

Prussia tried to snatch the chocolate bar back, but Romano quickly moved it out of his reach.

"I didn't say I wouldn't eat it!" he complained.

"You could have said thank you and we wouldn't be fighting over this," Prussia said, but his irritation had already subsided somewhat. He recalled Spain saying something about Romano always being like that even when he didn't mean it, but since Prussia had had the tendency to space out whenever Spain had started talking about their relationship, he couldn't remember if there was a reason for it. Or how to deal with it.

But, well. Charging into battle when there was no guarantee of survival was what had used to make his blood roar. He supposed he could hold the fort for one more day. It wasn't like he was going to make a habit out of hanging out with Italy's dysfunctional brother.

***

Germany and Italy were sitting on a bench in a park and enjoying the sunlight and their moment of peace. Or rather, Germany knew that Italy was enjoying all that. He wasn't so sure about himself. There were too many things that worried him, and much to his chagrin, he couldn't stop thinking about them even when he was supposed to be relaxing with Italy.

Then again, that was nothing new.

"Germany, you're so tense," Italy said and snuggled a little closer. "Do you want me to give you a back rub?"

"I think it would just make it worse," Germany said and turned his eyes to his hands when an elderly couple walked past their bench and gave the two of them a very disapproving glare.

"Don't you like it here? Should we go elsewhere?" Italy asked.

"It's not that either," Germany said. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this with Italy. He had discovered that most topics that he found uncomfortable actually didn't bother Italy at all, but this time it was about Romano. Italy's good-heartedness probably had limits, too.

"Then what is it?"

Germany frowned as he considered his chances for another moment and decided to give it a try.

"Why did you bring your brother with you this time?" he asked.

"Don't you like Romano?" Italy asked at once, a worried frown appearing on his face.

"That's not what I meant!" Germany hurried to explain, though in all honesty, he couldn't say he much cared for Romano's company. "It's more that he doesn't like me. In fact, I'm quite sure he hates me."

"Oh, no! Romano doesn't hate you," Italy said.

"How can you tell? Every time he looks at me I feel like he wants to strangle me. He complains about my house, my food, my dogs..."

Italy let out a thoughtful hum and ran his fingers down the length of Germany's arm. "Romano doesn't hate those things. Or actually, maybe he hates your food. It's really sucky sometimes. But what Romano really, really hates is being left behind," he said.

Germany frowned. "But he's not being left behind," he pointed out. Quite the contrary. He had done his best to accept Romano; he had kept himself from responding to his continuous onslaught of insults because Italy said Romano didn't meant half of the things he said. He had tried to have a decent conversation with him, but it just didn't work. Romano had something against him.

"He probably feels like he is. When he says that he hates you, I think he really means that he's afraid of me spending so much time with you that I will forget him and that you will become a really important part of my life that he can't share," Italy said.

"Um," Germany said.

Italy blinked at him a few times before realisation lit up his face. He laughed. "Oh, I don't think Romano wants to share you that way. He's not into that. I think. He's just afraid that he's not going to be important to me anymore. I'm sure that deep, deep down, he actually wants to get along with you."

"Then why won't he just say that?" Germany asked in exasperation. Really, these Italians. It had taken him years to even begin to understand one of them – and he still felt like it would be a few more decades before he'd get to the bottom of it. How was he supposed to deal with two of them, especially when they were so different?

"That's just how Romano is. You have to learn how to read him," Italy said.

"I'm not sure I can," Germany admitted.

Italy patted his arm in a reassuring manner. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it! I mean, look at Prussia! He's doing a pretty good job."

"I wouldn't exactly call it that. Prussia just makes him angrier." Then again, Prussia tended to have that effect on almost everyone, so maybe there was something to the situation that Germany wasn't seeing. Much like Romano, Prussia was sometimes a mystery to him.

"It's going to do Romano some good to spend time with someone like that," Italy said.

"Someone like what?" Germany asked, but it was right then that Italy noticed a family of ducks in the shade of the near-by bush and hurried to take a closer look. Watching his delighted smile made Germany forget the topic, and he was finally able to relax somewhat.

***

"So, what are you looking at?"

Romano didn't seem happy that Prussia had noticed him staring, but really, what had he expected? As if he could sneakily check him out without Prussia seeing it right away!

"None of your business," Romano said.

Prussia laughed. "Okay, so I'm free to draw my own conclusions. You were mesmerized by my utter hotness and sexy –"

"Your face, you idiot! I was just looking at the bruise!" 

Prussia lifted his fingers up to the corner of his eye where the kettle had hit him almost two weeks earlier. The mark was nearly gone now, and he had pretty much forgotten about it.

"Oh, that?" he asked. "Aww, were you worried about me? That's adorable! Go on, you can still apologize to me if you want!"

"I'm not going to apologize to you!" Romano snarled. An angry flush spread on his face, and he returned his attention to the chocolate that he was eating.

They were waiting for the bus back to Germany's house. It being Sunday, the schedule wasn't as busy as normally, so they still had some fifteen minutes of time to kill.

"Well, I forgive you anyway. You have to try a lot harder than that if you want to hurt me. I have this really cool scar that France gave me in 1806. I can show it to you if you want to," Prussia said. 

While the memory of how he had got the scar wasn't pleasant, he liked it when France traced his fingers along it and writhed under him. It reminded him of the fact that no matter how badly he could be beaten, he would always climb back on top and take back what was his.

"No. And don't talk about that pervert in my presence. I have no idea how you can stand to be friends with someone like him," Romano said.

"You of all people shouldn't be too picky with friends, you know," Prussia said.

"And what's that supposed to mean? I have friends! There's my brother and Belgium and... and Spain is my friend, too! And there's Greece and – and I have more friends than you in any case!"

Prussia guessed that was possible, but he quickly reminded himself that it was only because Romano was still a country and could go to world meetings. It was a little hard to keep in touch with the other nations when he was no longer part of the same circles. Everyone was always so busy. Even France and Spain had to prioritize their time.

"I'm just fine. Unlike you losers, I have a lot of free time and can do whatever I want. Next time you're stuck with paperwork and listening to boring speeches, think about me and how I'm drinking beer and playing video games," he said.

Romano only snorted at that, not looking particularly impressed. But he didn't look angry either, so Prussia supposed that he was in a better mood than normally. Maybe he'd get an actual smile out of him if he kept feeding him chocolate.

Before he could stuff his hand into his plastic bag and fish out more candy, Romano decided to speak after all.

"I have never met a bigger loser than you," he said.

Right, no more candy for Romano.

"What's that?" Prussia asked.

"If you're so pathetic that you can't see it for yourself, I'm not going to explain it to you. I don't really give a damn," Romano said. "And I think that's our bus."

Prussia followed Romano as he stepped onto the bus, feeling a little unsettled despite himself. He couldn't say he understood what Romano meant, but something about his tone of voice had struck him, as if Romano had caught a glimpse of something even Prussia himself didn't know that well.

***

It was the Italian brothers' last evening in Germany, so Italy insisted on them spending every possible moment together and playing some kind of board game. Prussia suggested Risk, but nobody else was in the mood for it, especially not Germany, so they settled for Monopoly instead.

"I'm not very good at this alone, so Germany should help me," Italy said.

"Stupid idea. Monopoly is boring with just two teams," Romano said.

"I didn't mean that you'd have to team up with Prussia. You two can be alone, so then we'd have three sides," Italy pointed out.

"Nah, I think _I_ should team up with Italy. West and Romano can be alone," Prussia added.

"No way! You aren't having my brother!"

"I think we should all play alone. It's not like this game requires that much strategy. It's all down to luck," Germany suggested.

"Speak for yourself, West. I'm going to win, and I'm going to do it with my ultimate talent."

Prussia loved Monopoly and everything it represented. It had been completely banned in East Germany, and all his attempts to get one smuggled to him from the other side had ended in failure. He hadn't cared that much about the actual game; he had just wanted to have something that embodied capitalism. Buying himself a copy had been one of the first things he had done after the Wall had come down.

"This is complete crap. I don't want to buy these places," Romano grumbled as he moved his piece on the board.

"But then you'll lose! You should try your best," Italy said.

"I don't care. I didn't want to play this anyway."

"My turn! Give me the dice!"

Prussia snatched the dice from Romano and threw them.

"Looks like you're going to jail, loser," Romano said.

"Just a temporary setback. I bet you're landing on Bahnhofstraße on your next turn, and then you have to pay rent to me."

"Like hell! I'm going straight past your property!"

It turned out that Prussia was wrong. Romano had luck and made it safely past both Rathausplatz and Bahnhofstraße, ending up on Parkstraße.

"Well, you have to pay anyway," Prussia said.

"This belongs to Veneziano. I'm not paying rent to my brother!"

"But that's against the rules. And you have enough money," Italy said.

"I don't care!"

"Maybe we should watch a movie," Germany suggested.

"You're just saying that because you're losing!" Romano and Prussia snarled at the same time.

The game continued in similar vein until Germany was on the verge of going bankrupt. Prussia and Romano's malicious triumph was quickly dampened when Italy announced that he was going to save Germany and would buy his property and let him join him. Italy was already leading the game, and this new development left him controlling a considerable portion of the game board.

Just one further round of the game made it obvious that if something wasn't done soon, Italy was going to serve them an embarrassing defeat in record time.

"Okay, here's an idea, Southern Cheeks," Prussia said. "All of your property is going to be annexed to my great Prussian Corporation. I'll make you a CEO, and you can be in charge of the finances while I move around the board and avoid enemy territory with my amazing luck."

"What? No! Why would I join forces with you? If I'm going to team up with anyone, it's going to be my brother!"

"But he already teamed up with West. Do you want to be the third wheel in that company?" Prussia asked. "And if you stay alone, you'll lose to them. You'll lose to West. Believe me, a real country knows when it's time to suck it up and ally yourself with disagreeable people to defeat a bigger enemy."

"Stop manipulating him," Germany said.

"You shut up! You should be bankrupt already, but you're just abusing my brother's good-heartedness and mooching off on his money and lands! Like hell I'm letting you win!" Romano snarled. He gathered all of his cards and money and handed them over to Prussia.

Prussia reached out to get his prize, but Romano wouldn't let go right away.

"Just one thing," he said. "It's going to be the Confederation of Sicily and Prussia from on, so stop acting like you're in charge here."

"I'm flexible," Prussia said and snatched the cards from Romano's hands.

With this new arrangement, the property on the board was divided almost evenly between the two teams. Italy and Germany sadly had Parkstraße and Schlossallee and were in good process of building houses there, but Prussia wasn't going to let that bother him. Now that Romano had joined him, he finally had all streets in the green colour group and could start building his super empire.

"Okay, strategy time," Prussia said as he eyed the game board. "We have to be really careful on the eastern front because the enemy has all the property there, except for the station and the electric company, which are ours. If we don't watch where we're going, we may end up paying rent even three times before we're out of this zone. It's not much, but if it happens too often --"

"Just throw the dice, you idiot. You can't control where we land," Romano said.

Prussia did so and watched in fascination as the dice landed on the board. 

"Fuck!" he swore when he got a five and ended up on Seestraße where Italy and Germany had a hotel.

"I'm throwing the dice next time!" Romano snapped. 

"It's not my fault! I thought you said we can't control it!"

"I have better luck!"

Romano did indeed have better luck. When it was their turn again, he managed to manoeuvre their piece safely past enemy forces to Westbahnhof. Italy and Germany had to pay rent to them when they arrived at Elisenstraße and then again at the station. Prussia quickly realised that God or whoever favoured Romano over him that night, so he let him stay in control of the dice and concentrated on throwing insults at Germany whenever his team had to pay them rent.

Slowly but surely, he and Romano got more and more money from their opponents. The first time Italy and Germany had to mortgage property to the bank made Prussia let out a triumphant whoop and nearly knock over the bank in excitement. It was so long ago that he had last been on top in Monopoly; on those rare occasions that he got someone to play with him, he usually lost.

Now he was winning, and he was winning against his brother! Ha! He'd never let that stick in the mud forget that!

"We got doubles! Quick, get us a seven so that we can get a card from the Community chest," he said to Romano.

"Don't bug me or I'll lose my concentration!" Romano said, but he didn't object when Prussia leaned really close to get a better look at the dice. Prussia didn't think he even noticed. Romano was just as into the game as he now that they had such good chances of winning.

The game continued. Italy and Germany lost more money until they were forced to sell some of their property to Prussia and Romano, which sealed their doom. Eventually it was impossible for them to get through the game board without landing on property owned by the Confederation of Sicily and Prussia. When Italy threw the dice and landed them on Bahnhofstraße, everyone knew that the game was over.

"Fuck yeah! We won!" Prussia yelled, grabbed all of their money and threw it into the air so that he and Romano were covered in a rain of euros.

"I'm not cleaning that up," Germany said.

"You're just pissed off that you and Ita-cakes lost! Isn't that right?" Prussia elbowed Romano, but he didn't wait for an answer. He jumped to his feet and ran to the kitchen where he grabbed two beers from the fridge. He threw one of them at Romano as he returned.

"Victory toast!" he announced.

"I only joined forces with you so that I could defeat the bastard! Our alliance is over!" Romano said, but he took the beer anyway.

"You can't break an alliance before the victory feast is over. First rule of war," Prussia said.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Italy asked.

Germany, who was picking up the fake money on the floor after all and organizing it neatly into the game box, only let out a frustrated sigh.

"Aww, don't worry! We'll win next time!" Italy said.

"Hey, lookie here," Prussia said and reached out to snatch a bill from Romano's hair. He waved it before Romano's nose. "If I put this behind your ear, will you do a special victory dance for me?"

It took Romano one second to realise what Prussia was suggesting and one more to turn over his beer bottle to pour the drink on Prussia's head.

Germany spent the next three hours washing the carpet.

 

"Goddammit! Finally we got out of there!" Romano said as he slumped on his seat on the plane.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Veneziano asked.

"It was worse! I never want to go back!"

Romano crossed his arms on his chest and turned to glare out of the window. Dammit, they had better serve something edible on this flight or he was going to flip. And they had better show some decent movie, too, or at least have something else to entertain him.

He had done his best not to think about it, but he was sure he had never seen Prussia as happy as when they had won that game of Monopoly. And that just proved how pathetic that loser was if a stupid game brought him so much joy. Romano wanted nothing more than to erase that irritating, self-satisfied and fucking ugly grin from his memory, but somehow it had looked so different from the way Prussia had smiled at Alexanderplatz or when they had been waiting for the bus that he found he couldn't.

He rummaged through the magazines on the back of the seat in front of him, but there were only the safety instructions and the tax free catalogue. He tried to read the latter, but it didn't help much. They were selling that same stupid chocolate that Prussia had bought him the previous day.

Dammit, he thought, slammed the magazine shut and shoved it back.


	6. Chapter 6

If it hadn't been for the sudden scraping of someone's feet against the cobblestones, Romano would have probably fallen asleep on his chair on the porch. The midday heat of the southern Italian sun could make anyone tired, and it was best to spend these hours of the day resting and not doing anything productive.

He had placed a hat on his face, so even if he had opened his eyes, he wouldn't have seen who was walking closer. As a result, he didn't bother to muster up the energy and let his eyes remain closed. It was probably just Veneziano. There weren't many people who would visit him at his small house near the town of Roggiano Gravina.

The hat was suddenly snatched from his face, and the sunlight made him squint his eyes.

"Wake up, Romano!"

Oh, crap.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, still unable to open his eyes properly, but there was no need to. Spain's voice wasn't something he'd forget any time soon.

"I heard you and Italy were staying here, so I decided to drop by and say hello. Where is he?" Spain asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care," Romano grumbled.

"Ah, okay. I'll just invite myself over and go look for him. Go back to sleep if you want to," Spain said and put the hat back on Romano's face.

"As if! This is my house!" Romano snapped and threw the hat away. Dammit, he had been feeling so content in the sun. Now his day was forever ruined, and Spain didn't even have the decency to say hello to him before running off to look for his idiot brother.

Pissed off, he followed Spain into the house. He realised he wasn't feeling the sting that usually stabbed his heart whenever Spain shoved him aside in favour of his brother. Now that he was no longer together with him, it was as if he wasn't so vulnerable and desperate for his acceptance.

The house was small and not very practical, but Romano adored it more than any of his other homes. It was built of pale stone and consisted of two stores plus a tiny cellar for his wine and home-grown vegetables. The front door was in need of repairs; fainted light blue paint was peeling off at an alarming rate. The wooden shutters on the windows weren't in a much better condition, nor was the mortar on the walls. Veneziano was always telling him to do something about that, but Romano liked the house the way it was.

Spain was standing in the small entrance hall with his hands on his hips and observing the shadowy interior.

"Veneziano's room is upstairs, in case you forgot," Romano said.

"I know. But actually, maybe I should talk about this with you first," Spain said.

Romano didn't need to hear what topic Spain had in mind to guess that it wouldn't be a comfortable conversation. He could read Spain very well, and right now his expression said that he had something big weighing on his heart and couldn't decide whether to feel happy about it or not. And since this was the man who had watched his colonies leave him and had tried to see something positive about it, it had to be serious.

"Go to the kitchen. I'll get the wine," Romano said and decided to sacrifice his best bottle.

Spain had taken a seat by the table and was examining the scratches on its surface when Romano joined him a few moments later. The scent of rosemary hung in the air. Romano realised he had forgotten to put the lid back on the jar after cooking the previous evening.

He walked to the window to close the shutters. The strong sunlight felt smothering against his skin, and maybe it would be easier to talk if he couldn't see Spain's features so clearly.

"So," he said and placed the wine bottle between them on the table. "Start talking, bastard."

"First you've got to tell me how you've been doing. I hear you spent the weekend in Germany. Did you have fun?" Spain asked.

"It was miserable from start to finish," Romano said as he pulled the cork from the bottle and filled their glasses, frowning at how Spain had made him recall those three days. He had escaped to Roggiano Gravina to forget them and to enjoy good food, good weather and the company of good people.

Spain laughed. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad, though I'll be the first to admit that Prussia can be a handful," he said.

"Tell me about it," Romano said. He had done his best to just forget about him and the numerous times he had pissed him off in one weekend, but his thoughts always turned back to that stupid game of Monopoly and Prussia's grin when they had won. God, that guy was an ass. Why couldn't he just disappear from his mind and let him be?

"He used to be easier to tolerate in the past. Running around with an army probably took care of his extra energy. Or maybe the time with Russia messed up his mind even more," Spain mused.

"I hope you didn't come all this way to talk about Prussia," Romano said. "Because if you did, then get the –"

Spain quickly lifted up his palms. "No, no, not at all. It's something else entirely."

"Well, go ahead, then. I don't have all day."

"Yeah, but first I need you to tell me something. And be honest, okay?"

Romano sipped his wine, though he had the feeling that even half of the bottle wouldn't have been enough to prepare him for whatever awkward topic Spain had in mind.

"Whatever."

"Alright. Oh, and please don't hit me or throw the bottle at me or anything like that either." Spain drew a deep breath. "Romano, are you feeling okay about how we broke up? You aren't sad or anything?"

"What kind of question is that, asshole?" Romano snapped, but he regretted it right away when he saw the hurt flash in Spain's eyes. Crap, what was going on here? That idiot had used to be immune to much worse insults.

"I'm sorry," Spain said. "I just needed to know. Because I get the feeling that I didn't really think about your feelings that much when we were together. I just somehow assumed that everything got better after a smile and a pat on the head, and I didn't want to make that mistake again."

"I'm fine. Really," Romano grumbled. "And it wasn't your fucking fault."

"Honestly? You're fine?" Spain asked, looking so uncharacteristically serious that it was starting to make Romano uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Ask Veneziano if you don't believe me. He's been with me all the time. He can tell you I haven't been sulking in the bathroom or anything pathetic like that."

Spain's face melted into a smile that Romano knew all too well. "Good!" he said. "In that case, you won't get angry if I say that I'm kind of interested in someone, right?"

The glass in his hand suddenly felt heavy, so Romano hastily put it down. He hated how loud the sound was in the silence of the kitchen.

"Oh," was all that he could say. He felt like he had to say something more, quickly, so he added, "That's great." It sounded ridiculous, and he was sure that even a clueless idiot of Spain's magnitude wouldn't be fooled by his tone.

"You're upset after all," Spain said.

"No, I'm not!" Romano snapped. "I'm just... kind of surprised." Yeah, that had to be it. He was just startled that Spain had got over it so soon and was already ready for a new relationship. Romano hadn't given a single thought to such ideas, and he doubted he would in the near future.

"Are you sure?" Spain asked.

"Yeah, how many times do I have to say it? We aren't together anymore, so why would I be upset?" Romano asked. He didn't mind seeing Spain with someone else, not really. In fact, it was probably for the best. He hadn't exactly done anything to work on the issues that had made him break up with him in the first place. This was a good reminder that he needed to move on with his life, too.

"I hope you'll still say that when you hear who it is," Spain said.

"Please don't tell me it's the potato bastard. No, wait! Tell me it's him! Tell me you'll save Veneziano from him!"

"Sorry to be a disappointment, but no. It's actually France," Spain said.

Romano stared at him and tried to digest this piece of news.

"France?"

"Yeah."

"You're interested in that sick pervert? Have you gone insane?"

"He's not that bad. If you'd just give him a –"

"Why does everyone around me date these bastards?" Romano wondered. God, was he the only one who wasn't completely blind and stupid? What was he supposed to do when the two most important people in his life had such a painfully bad taste?

Oh, shit. And what if --

"You're not bringing France with you when you come to visit. Ever."

"Hey, now. We aren't even together yet," Spain said.

"Good for you." Romano couldn't imagine why anyone would want to be together with France. Was it even possible? He was always flirting with everything that breathed, so he probably slept with everything that couldn't run away fast enough, too. He couldn't imagine France in a committed relationship.

"I'm going to talk to him later. I just wanted to tell you first to make sure you were okay," Spain said.

"God, I hope you weren't going to let me stop you. If you want to get into a world of problems with that wine sponge who probably never showers, be my guest!" 

To be honest, Romano was a little touched by Spain's concern. Part of him had been afraid that they would drift apart after breaking up. He would never admit it to anyone, but Spain had been such a strong presence in his life for so long that he couldn't imagine what to do if he suddenly disappeared.

"Haha, I'm so happy to see you're alright," Spain said.

"Hey, Romano, why didn't you tell me Spain had come over?"

Romano and Spain turned to look at the door to see Veneziano standing there.

"Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you were!" Spain exclaimed. He jumped to his feet and went to pull Veneziano into a hug.

"I was just trying to get some sleep because it's so hot," Veneziano said. "It's so nice of you to drop by! And it was a great timing because now we know to cook for three."

"I'll help you! It's been a while since we all three cooked together!" Spain said.

"It'll be so much fun!"

"Don't get too excited. We weren't expecting anyone, so we probably don't even have enough ingredients for anything special," Romano pointed out.

"Aww, don't be so negative. It doesn't matter what we cook as long as we get to eat together, right? This is like a big family dinner. Okay, not exactly big since we don't have lots of sisters, brothers, cousins or uncles or anything like normal people, but as big as it can get without inviting Portugal, Malta, Monaco and the others," Veneziano said.

"That actually sounds like a good idea. We should have a huge Mediterranean dinner at my house some day," Spain said.

"Oh, that would be fun! Wouldn't it, Romano?"

"Do whatever you want," Romano said, but it was an appealing idea. It was a while since he had last spoken with Monaco. Oh, and Portugal was gorgeous, too. He supposed he might even be able to tolerate France for a while if he got to chat with the Mediterranean beauties.

***

Prussia whistled to himself as he was walking down the street towards France's house. It was Friday, and he had decided to surprise the other nation by dropping by for the weekend. Germany was off on some official business, and Prussia didn't really feel like staying alone at the house. It felt awfully quiet after the previous weekend when the Italy brothers had been there.

It was never dull with France. It was impossible to tell from just watching his behaviour around other nations, but France was actually really picky about what kind of sex he was willing to have and where. A rough quickie against the bathroom door wasn't good enough; he needed foreplay and satin sheets and wine and other crap like that.

That was why Prussia had come prepared and bought a bouquet of flowers at a corner shop. It was tacky as hell, but it would guarantee him some awesome sex and company, so he couldn't really complain too much.

He hid the bouquet behind his back as he arrived at France's house and rang the doorbell. Nobody came to open the door, so Prussia tried again. France was usually quick to greet anyone who came to visit. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe he had gone to visit Belgium or Seychelles like he often liked to do.

"Could have invited me, too," Prussia muttered and turned to leave.

There was a click at the door, and when Prussia turned back, he saw a somewhat dishevelled France standing before him. His hair was a mess, and it looked like his frilly, white shirt had been put on in a haste.

"Either you're recovering from a drunken Thursday or you were just in the middle of great sex with someone," Prussia said.

"Prussia, what are you doing here?" France asked.

"I thought I'd drop by for a surprise visit. Why, is it a bad time?" Prussia asked casually. Since France hadn't invited him in yet, it probably was. Oh, well. He could come back some other time. No problem.

France hesitated for a moment. "Actually, it's really good that you came. There's something we should talk about."

"Wow, that doesn't sound good. Makes me all ticklish and nervous," Prussia said with a cackle. "Are we going to talk about it here, or will you let me in?"

"Sure, come in."

"Here, I picked these up for you on the way. I figured you'd like sentimental crap like that," Prussia said and handed the bouquet to France. Usually when he did that, a playful smiled graced France's lips as he leaned closer to smell the flowers. This time, he only looked uncomfortable.

"Thank you. I'll get them a vase."

Okay, something was definitely off here, and Prussia was starting to get the feeling that he wasn't going to like it very much. 

Just as he was finished with this thought, he heard someone step into the room. Since France had just exited to the kitchen, it couldn't be him. He whirled around and found himself face to face with Spain.

Spain was in a similar state of confused fashion catastrophe as France, which made it all too easy to put two and two together and figure out what was going on. What was considerably more difficult was deciding whether Prussia should have been surprised or whether this was the most logical thing in the world. Either way, it was suddenly difficult to swallow.

"Looks like you got over losing your Italian boytoy," he said.

Spain smiled. "Yeah, I'm just fine now."

Prussia shoved his hands into his pockets. He suddenly had no idea what to say to his friend, and that irritated him more than he cared to admit. He was always supposed to be in control.

"Can I get you anything?" Spain asked and walked to the liquor cabinet France had in his living room.

Wow, he had sure made himself feel at home fast. Even after several years of casual sex with France, Prussia hadn't developed the guts to touch his quality alcohol without permission. He supposed it was safe to guess that Spain wasn't visiting France just for the same friends with benefits action that he was.

"Nah, I'm cool," he said.

It was then that France returned from the kitchen. Thankfully, he had left the flowers there. Prussia felt it would have been awkward and embarrassing to let Spain see them.

He decided that he should be the first one to speak, just to prove to everyone that he was on top of the situation and didn't need an explanation.

"So, I guess I picked the wrong day for a social call. I'll just get the hell out of here and let you two get back to where you were," he said.

"Not so fast," France said.

"Sorry, but if you aren't going to invite me in, I'm not going to stick around. I've got lots of things I could be doing right now," Prussia said, doing his best to keep his voice even and not hostile or accusing.

"I just want to make sure we all know where we stand. It wouldn't be fair otherwise," France said.

Prussia shrugged. "I think I've got it pretty well figured out, but go ahead."

"Well, you see, after the recent developments, Spain and I have spent quite a lot of time talking and thinking. We've decided that we'd like to try if it would work out between us," France explained.

God, that stung. Over the years, France had never once suggested that he and Prussia should get together for real. Not once. But maybe it was no surprise. France and Spain did actually have a lot in common. Heck, they even shared a border, Prussia thought bitterly. He didn't share a border with anyone; there was nobody he could have that kind of bond with.

He forced himself to grin at his friends. "Wow, took you two long enough. I always knew you were made for each other," he said. "So, I guess this means I had better stop dropping by for random sex, right?"

"That would probably be for the best," France agreed.

"I hope you're okay with that," Spain said.

"Yeah! Totally! No problem. I have lots of people I can get sex from."

Prussia decided that he didn't want to spend a single moment longer in France's house. The atmosphere was suffocating, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep that grin on his face. It was starting to get painful.

"I don't want to be in the way of your fun any longer, so congratulations and become happy and all that. I'm off to spend some quality time with Austria or something," Prussia said and lifted his hand in a casual greeting as he started marching towards the door.

Irritatingly enough, France followed him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this. I was planning to tell you before I and Spain did anything, but then he just dropped by, and things got out of hand," he said.

"Hey, it's okay. We agreed that it was just sex and that we could break it off any time we wanted. If you think I'm going to cry because of something like this, you don't know me at all," Prussia said. 

"I know, but this was still a little tacky," France said with an apologetic wince.

"What's tacky is that you've got a hot guy in your living room waiting for you, and you're still talking to me. Get out of here, you Provençal stallion." Prussia gave France a playful shove on the shoulder.

"Very well," France said with a smile, and Prussia was glad he had been convincing enough.

He made sure his steps were light and casual and the grin on his face as he left. He didn't let go of the disguise until he was sure that France or Spain wouldn't be able to see him from the windows anymore. Not that he thought they were watching him; they were probably already busy with something else.

"Well, that was that," Prussia mused. He hadn't lied when he had said that he was happy for France and Spain. They were his best friends, and they deserved each other. He wasn't even that jealous of either one of them since he didn't love them as more than friends. It just hurt to know that they had each other when he had only become a little bit lonelier again.

***

When Germany returned from his conference on Saturday evening, he discovered that all the beer in the house was gone and that Prussia had locked himself in the basement. He tried to knock on the door and ask him to turn down the volume of the death metal that was shaking the foundations of the house, but there was no answer. If anything, the music only became louder when Prussia noticed that he was no longer alone. 


	7. Chapter 7

Prussia was sitting at the kitchen table and watching Germany attach a sheet of paper on the fridge with a magnet. It was the usual list of things Prussia had to do while Germany was away at a world meeting. Feed the dogs. Water the flowers. Make sure the house was still standing after whatever shenanigans he got up to. Prussia knew it all by heart.

"There's food in the fridge, and it should be enough to get you through the next two days," Germany said.

"I'm not a baby, West. I can feed myself," Prussia said.

"I know, but you make such a mess of my kitchen in the process that it's easier for me to cook for you than clean up after you," Germany said.

Your kitchen, huh, Prussia thought, but he said nothing. He had been feeling a little touchy lately, and things that he wouldn't have normally even noticed had started irritating him. The last thing he needed was for Germany to notice that something was wrong. Prussia was perhaps ready to admit that he was sometimes an irritating asshole and living like a bum at Germany's house, but the one thing he wasn't going to do was to make his little brother worried about him.

"Loosen up a little. It's not the end of the world if you can't see your reflection in the sink all the time," he said. And Germany was exaggerating anyway. Italy made a much bigger mess in the kitchen, but Germany never told him not to cook.

"Basic hygiene is very important in the kitchen. And that reminds me, the car is coming to pick up the garbage on Thursday morning, so please don't forget to take out the can."

"Sure, no problem!" Prussia said and gave his brother a salute. "Anything else?"

"If you're going to throw a party and invite someone over, try not to spill beer on the couch."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises," Prussia said. He actually was planning to call a few guys and ask if they were up to partying in the middle of the week. They were all normal people, not ones he could say he was particularly close to, but he wasn't feeling picky. All the nations he could have imagined inviting would be at the world meeting.

At first he had been about to crash the meeting, as he usually did when he was feeling particularly bored, but he wasn't up for it this time. He didn't really want to see France and Spain in the middle of their happy bliss. Besides, he had responsibilities at home. _Someone_ had to take out the garbage.

Crap, he thought as he leaned back on the chair and crossed his hands behind his head. It was pretty amazing how low it was possible for a nation to sink.

***

Romano was leaning his chin on his palm and not bothering to look like he was even trying to listen to the speech that Netherlands was giving about some trade regulation and why he thought it was a good idea. Romano knew it was an important topic, but he often found it difficult to concentrate when Veneziano was present. Despite his ridiculous behaviour, Veneziano was actually decent at running the country, so Romano saw no reason for him to waste his time with it when he didn't have to.

He wondered how his tomatoes were doing at home and if they'd be ripe in time for the Mediterranean dinner that Spain absolutely wanted to organize. He hoped Portugal would bring some _Francesinhas_. Maybe they could even make them together.

"I object to Netherland's idea. I don't see what we'll accomplish by enforcing stricter control on exported dairy products. It's just going to make the prices go up," Portugal said, which made Romano pay a bit more attention again.

"You're just saying that because then other countries would buy domestic products instead of yours," England pointed out.

"Of course she's saying that. If this regulation is accepted, our farmers will be in trouble," Spain said.

"Well, I'm sorry if some of us would prefer to eat food that doesn't kill us!"

"Hey, it was proven that the incident with the vegetables wasn't our fault! Blame Germany for spreading lies before he had any facts!"

They didn't accomplish anything other than letting out some steam, but that was nothing new. Sweden, who was hosting the meeting, announced a half an hour break so that everyone could cool off a little before they continued with the topic, hopefully without it escalating into a physical fight this time.

Romano decided to drop by the canteen to eat something that would help him last until it was time for lunch. When he got there, he saw that many other countries had got the exact same idea. His attention was particularly caught by Spain and France who were just taking seats by the window.

France dramatically spilled his ice tea on Spain.

"Oh, dear! How clumsy of me! We must hurry to the men's room and take off those pants so that we can clean them before the meeting continues!" he exclaimed.

"Right, I guess there's no choice," Spain said, and the two of them scrambled to their feet.

Spain, you idiot. You're so gullible, Romano thought with a disgusted shake of his head.

He watched the duo dash towards the men's room and how France couldn't even wait until they were inside to keep his hands to himself. They froze when they noticed that Romano was staring at them. Romano didn't want them to think it upset him to see them like that, so he flipped them a finger.

"Get in there and make sure we don't have to witness this sick sight any longer," he said.

Spain laughed, and France gave Romano a wink before opening the door and shoving Spain through it.

Romano realised he had lost his appetite and probably wouldn't be able to swallow anything at lunch either. He decided he might just as well return to the meeting room and see if he could get a hold of Portugal for a quick chat.

But then he saw that Germany was just about to open the door to the men's room. Romano couldn't imagine anything being a bigger turn-off than him barging in the middle of the fun, and he felt a sudden flare of protectiveness.

"You! Don't go in there!" he yelled and marched over to him from the other side of the room.

"Why not?" Germany asked.

Romano didn't really want to go into the details about the situation, so he simply stepped between Germany and the door so that he couldn't pass.

"None of your business, bastard," he said.

Germany sighed. "If I've done something to offend you, I'm sorry, but could you please let me through?"

"Use the bathroom on the second floor!"

"Let me through!"

"N-no!" Romano stammered, though he was close to peeing his pants. It didn't matter that Germany hadn't been to war in years; when he used that voice and had that expression on his face, he was the most frightening person in the world.

"If you don't step aside right now, I'll be forced to –"

While fleeing was looking like a very attractive option right now, Romano decided to use a different tactic and distract Germany with something. The first topic that came to his mind was potatoes, but he didn't really want to talk about them even when the situation called for desperate measures. The second topic wasn't much more acceptable, but Romano thought he could try to stomach it.

"By the way, where's your stupid brother? I haven't seen him all day," Romano said.

Germany gave him a funny look. "Prussia doesn't come to world meetings, except when he sneaks in to bug everyone," he said.

Romano had to admit that he hadn't even noticed. Somehow he had just assumed that Prussia was always there and that they had just missed each other since they had no reason to hang out together. He now realised how stupid it was. Of course Prussia didn't come to meetings. He didn't have a country to represent.

"I knew that!" he snapped. "I just thought he'd be here today because – I actually wanted to tell him that... Okay, whatever. Never mind. It's not important."

Before Germany could ask any questions that would have made the situation even more awkward, the bathroom door behind Romano's back was opened and France poked his head out.

"What are you two up to here? If you want in, the door's not locked," he said.

"Thank you," Germany said sharply and pushed his way in past Romano.

"Just what the hell are you two doing in there?" Romano asked as he turned to take a look inside.

France was still fully dressed; not one button was undone. Spain's state of clothing was a little lacking; he was standing in his underwear by the sink and drying his pants with the hand dryer. He gave Romano a smile and a wave when he noticed him.

"We had to wash my pants, but it's all okay now," he said.

"I hate you both," Romano snarled, feeling an embarrassed blush spread on his cheeks. Dammit, he had gone through all that awkward trouble to make sure nobody bothered them, and then they weren't even doing anything.

"Sorry, I'm almost done. If you need the hand dryer, you can have it soon," Spain said.

"I don't want it."

France chuckled in amusement. "I'm afraid we gave little Romano a somewhat wrong idea. My apologies. I didn't know you had such a dirty mind."

"Like hell I have! I don't need any imagination! Just seeing your lecherous face is enough to make anyone know what's going on in your head!"

"Okay, I'm done! Sorry you had to wait, guys!" Spain announced. He held his pants before his eyes as he inspected them and nodded approvingly before starting to put them on.

Germany watched them with a confused expression, like he was doing his best to put together a puzzle that was missing a few pieces. Then he gave up with a shake of his head and walked into one of the stalls.

"I'm out of here. I can't believe I wasted almost the whole break with this nonsense," Romano announced.

"Wait, are you upset about something?" Spain asked. "I know. Let's go to eat something after the meeting."

“Why? What's the catch?” Romano asked, glaring at Spain with a suspicious scowl.

“No catch. I just want to test Sweden's restaurants with you. Come on, we'll have fun! My treat!”

Romano pouted, but it was difficult to remain pissed off for long when Spain was smiling like that. Besides, who was he to turn down free food?

“Sure, whatever,” he agreed. A nice dinner with Spain might actually help make this day at least half-tolerable.

***

Prussia took a gulp of his beer and leaned back on the couch. A rental movie was playing on the TV, but he wasn't really paying that much attention to it. It was some action flick America had recommended to him, and while he normally liked anything with explosions, he just wasn't in the mood for it now.

The guys he had called over had left about half an hour ago. They all had work the next day, they had said, so they couldn't party late into the night. Prussia had sent them off with a chuckle and said that he understood it perfectly; he had work, too, he had said.

He kind of wished it were true. He had sometimes entertained thoughts of getting a job of some kind, maybe trying out lots of different things. He was sure he would be brilliant at everything.

The only problem was that he had only one true passion, and that was outside his reach. The German army was mostly involved in international incidents, and Germany didn't want him to become involved. It was nothing personal; Prussia's image was just too aggressive on everyone's mind even today. It didn't fit into the peaceful impression Germany wanted to give of his country.

Prussia reached to pick up Gilbird from atop his head and regarded the bird on his palm.

"I'm not complaining, you know. Drinking beer and watching movies alone is so much fun," he said.

He turned to eye the living room. Germany had picked the curtains and the carpet. The painting on the wall was a Bavarian landscape. The photos on the bookshelf showed memorable moments in German history – Adenauer and de Gaulle, Willy Brandt in Warsaw, the FIFA World Cup in 1974. All things that his brother was proud of. Apart from the TV that Prussia had picked – because Germany understood little of what an awesome home theatre set was like – there wasn't really much that belonged to him at the house. No matter how many times Germany insisted that it was their house, it didn't really feel like it.

"It just gets a little boring sometimes," he mused and turned to glare at the beer bottle in his hand. In a fit of spitefulness, he turned it over and emptied it on the couch.

***

Romano was in a good mood as he waited for Spain outside the restaurant. They had agreed to meet there because they both had some business in town, so there was no point in returning to the hotel just so that they could come out again together.

While he wouldn't have admitted it, it made him happy that Spain had invited him to dinner. It was such a relief to see that they could still hang out as friends after everything that had happened and that Spain actually still wanted his company. The warm feeling of safety was so comforting that he was sure he would be able to take whatever excuse of food that they served at the restaurant.

“Hey there, Romano!”

Romano turned around to reply to Spain's greeting, but the words died on his lips when he saw that Spain hadn't arrived alone. France was standing by his side, looking all innocent with his hands in the pockets of his fancy dinner jacket.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Romano asked.

“I'm going to have dinner with you two. What else?” France replied.

“You didn't tell me he was coming!” Romano said, turning to face Spain.

Spain stared at him in confusion. “Sorry, I didn't know it would be a problem. I thought it was kind of obvious.”

“I can always leave,” France suggested.

Romano opened his mouth to tell him that he should do exactly that and that this dinner was just for him and Spain, but he changed his mind just in time. Spain and France were a couple. It wasn't really his right to tell them if they could have dinner together or not, as much as he hated that.

What was he doing, wanting to be alone with Spain in the first place? That could be understood wrong in so many ways. France might think he still had feelings for Spain. Even Spain might think that. Or... Or maybe Spain had brought France along because wanted to make sure Romano wouldn't be uncomfortable, that he wouldn't think Spain meant anything more with his smiles and affection.

Romano suddenly felt like the biggest idiot in the world. He should have given it some thought.

“Whatever. I don't care. I only came here for the food anyway since Spain is buying,” he grumbled. Actually, he just wanted to go back to the hotel and bury his face into his pillow in embarrassment, but he decided to suck it up this time.

They walked inside and were directed to a table. As he hid his face behind the menu, Romano was dismayed to notice that most of the dishes didn't sound appealing at all. He decided to take a risk and try the pasta, even though he knew from experience that what most foreign restaurants called pasta should have been outlawed as waste unfit for human consumption.

“It's so nice to have dinner together like this. It's been a while since last time,” Spain said.

“Everyone is so busy these days. It's such a shame,” France agreed. He briefly touched Spain's hand with his, and Romano did his best to act like he hadn't noticed.

“But we're all going to get together at my house some time later, right? I already have so many ideas! You're bringing your best tomatoes, aren't you, Romano?” Spain asked.

“I'm still thinking about it,” Romano said, though he had already taken note of which were the nicest ones in the fields.

“And I'm bringing the wine because mine is the best. It should wipe that frown even from your face,” France said.

“I'd rather drink dish water,” Romano said.

Spain looked like he was about to say something, but then his eyes turned to something behind Romano's back, and he started waving with both hands.

“Hey, look! It's Italy and Germany!”

Veneziano and Germany noticed them and came over to talk to them. Germany looked somewhat awkward, probably thinking about the hostile atmosphere of the meeting, but Spain and Veneziano were soon chatting like there was absolutely nothing wrong. 

Before Romano even realised what was going on, Veneziano had invited himself to sit at their table and had dragged Germany along with him.

“I'm not sure if we –” Germany tried to protest, but he never had the chance to finish.

“Oh, no! I'm sure it's perfectly alright! Isn't that right?” Veneziano asked.

“Yeah, we have nothing against it! Let's just call the waiter back so that you can order, too,” Spain said.

And so Romano's miserable dinner became even more miserable. If it had been just Veneziano, he would have been glad to have some support so that he wouldn't have to be alone with Spain and France. However, Germany's presence negated nearly every possible good point about it. Germany always wanted to talk about work.

"Let's talk about something else, okay?" Veneziano suggested after a while. His face was lit up as he got a sudden idea.

Romano stopped eating and turned all his attention to his brother, curious about what he'd blurt out this time. Most of Veneziano's ideas were always damn stupid, but sometimes he said something worth listening to.

However, he obviously didn't want to share it with them this time. Veneziano stood up and slipped his hand into Germany's, pulling him up as well.

“What are you doing?” Germany asked.

“I want to tell you a secret. Come on, you'll love it!”

Germany sighed but allowed himself to be led away. Romano glared at them and was glad when they stopped in plain sight where the bastard wouldn't be able to take advantage of his brother.

There was a jab of irritation when he watched how Veneziano leaned closer to whisper something into Germany's ear. They were too far away for Romano to hear Germany's reply, but he could see him nodding.

"You've been in a pretty bad mood all evening," France pointed out, drawing Romano's attention back to the table.

"What did you expect, jerkface? I told you I didn't want you here," Romano said. 

Had France and Spain been sitting that close to each other all through the dinner? Spain was practically on France's lap!

"Is it the food? I admit, it's pretty mediocre," Spain said.

France let out a sigh. "Seriously, I don't understand you, Romano."

"Well, I didn't ask you to!" Romano snapped. He realised only then that he had been clutching his serviette in his hand ever since Veneziano and Germany had left the table. He tossed it away angrily and jumped to his feet.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," he announced and marched away.

The Swedish summer was light, so it didn't look at all like a late evening. Romano walked out to the patio where some people were having drinks and conversing happily. He found an empty corner table and took a seat, turning to stare at the sparse traffic.

He didn't really know why he was angry. It wasn't like he enjoyed it, so he didn't try to feel that way on purpose. And he didn't even have a reason to be angry at anyone. Germany and France weren't being any more irritating than usual.

He kept glancing at the door to see if anyone was going to come and see how he was doing. Fifteen minutes passed, making him even more pissed off and miserable. By now, Veneziano and Spain were probably so busy sucking their boyfriends' faces off that they didn't even remember that he existed. They were probably all glad he had finally fucked off and left them alone. Maybe he'd sit here for the rest of the evening, just to see if they would notice he was missing even when it was time to return to the hotel. 

Self-pity was like poking his tongue at a loose tooth. The rational part of him knew it wasn't good for him, but the part that was hurt and lonely got such immense satisfaction from it that he couldn't stop.

Seeing Spain together with France stung, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. It wasn't that he still had romantic feelings for Spain. What bothered him was how fast Spain had got over their break-up and how happy he was with France. France knew how to treat him right. Romano couldn't recall if he had ever seen Spain beam with such joy when they had been together.

It made him feel like a complete failure, as if he had somehow abused Spain. He had very rarely shown him genuine affection, told him that he loved him, at least not without coating it with vulgarities or sulking about it for the whole day first. Was it really any wonder that Spain was happier with France?

Romano wished it were so easy for him, too. To just throw himself into love and not worry about it, to show his real emotions without feeling like he had to hide them.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked rapidly to clear his suddenly blurring vision. He wanted to change. He knew he couldn't be happy if he didn't, but it felt so hopeless.

"Hey, Romano. What are you sitting here all alone for?"

Romano didn't turn to look when he heard Veneziano's voice.

"I was bored," he said.

"You should come back inside. Your food has gone all cold."

"It was crap anyway."

Veneziano pulled himself a chair and took a seat by his side. Romano was glad when he didn't say anything. He had the words to explain himself; he knew exactly what he had to say, but it just wouldn't come out, not even when it was his own brother.

***

Prussia was feeling relatively pleased with himself. He had taken the garbage can out, and this time he had done it the previous evening instead of waking up in the morning to the sound of the garbage car arriving and having to run outside in his underwear with the can. Not just that, but he had even washed the couch pillows so that they didn't reek of beer anymore.

Dumping the beer on the couch had been a pretty stupid idea. Not only was it a total waste of perfectly good beer, but his orderly side was screaming in protest at the mess he had made, prompting him to start cleaning at once.

"I must say I'm pretty damn good at this," he said with his hands on his hips as he observed the pillows. They were dripping wet, but at least they were clean. Germany should have no reason to complain.

Just as he stepped out of the utility room, he heard the front door open. Germany's timing was perfect, as usual.

"Hey, West! How was the meeting?" he asked, going to greet him in the living room.

"The same as always," Germany said. He glanced at the couch that was missing two pillows but said nothing.

"Didn't achieve anything, then? How many times do I have to tell you that all you have to do is take me with you, and all problems would be solved right away!"

"I doubt that a little," Germany said and took off his jacket. "By the way, Romano was asking for you at the meeting. He had something to say to you."

"What?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't elaborate. I think you should call him."

Prussia had a pretty vivid imagination, but he couldn't come up with a single reason why Romano of all nations would want to talk to him. Knowing him, it was probably just a string of insults about something that he blamed him for, but he didn't mind. It could turn out to be interesting, and it was kind of a nice feeling that someone had remembered him at the meeting.


	8. Chapter 8

Romano was tapping his fingers against the table in impatience and waiting for Veneziano to pick up the damn phone. It wasn't uncommon for his brother not to notice when someone was calling him, but Romano had been trying to reach him all morning. Surely even someone as stupid as Veneziano should have taken a look at his cell by now.

"Dammit," he swore and gave up, turning his attention to his coffee instead. He liked coming to his café to spend the time and to observe his people go about with their lives. The pretty waitresses were a plus, too.

Veneziano had been a bit of a mystery to him lately. Two weeks earlier, he had thrown himself at Romano and cried about something for nearly two hours, but he had refused to say what it was that made him so upset. Knowing him, it could have really been anything, so it wasn't the fact that his brother had been sobbing his eyes out that bothered him.

He always used to tell me what was bugging him, whether I wanted to listen or not, Romano fumed.

And then Veneziano's mood had moved to the other end of the spectrum only a few days ago. He had been happy as a fucking clam, smiling and blabbering and singing even more than usual. And again, he had refused to tell Romano what was going on.

Veneziano had never before hidden anything from him. In fact, he never hid anything from anyone; he was just wired that way. Romano had often wished that his brother would develop some sense of self-preservation and learn how to keep a secret, but now he found himself hating the feeling of not knowing.

I'm getting right to the bottom of this, he decided.

Veneziano had said he wanted to spend the weekend at his house in Milan and have a conference with some of their most important politicians. Romano had immediately claimed he had business in Rome. He wanted no part in that.

But maybe he'd go there after all. He'd jump on a train, kick his brother's door open and demand to know what was going on. Or sulk and complain about everything until Veneziano realised that Romano was upset and spilled the beans. 

Yes, that's exactly what he'd do. He downed the rest of his coffee with one gulp and got to his feet, hurrying to catch a bus that would take him to the Termini Station.

It took some four hours before Romano was standing on his brother's doorstep in Milan. To the outside, everything looked normal, but Romano could tell it was far from it. There was no music. No scent of anything being cooked. No windows were open.

His suspicions grew when he tried the door and found it locked. Then again, it was always possible that Veneziano had just gone to run errands or hang out somewhere. That would explain why he hadn't noticed his phone ringing.

He took out the spare key that Veneziano had given him and let himself into the house.

"Hey, are you home?" he called out, even as he knew that there would be no answer.

Romano walked straight into the kitchen. Everything was clean; there were no used plates in the sink nor wet ones in the drying cabinet. Veneziano hadn't had any breakfast that morning. And that could only mean that he hadn't spent the night at his house.

"The hell?" Romano muttered in confusion. Wasn't there supposed to be a conference in Milan this weekend? Where else could Veneziano be staying at? In Florence? Venice? Then why had he said that he'd be in Milan?

Unless...

Romano turned on his heels and ran upstairs. He wrenched open the door to Veneziano's bedroom – or their bedroom, technically, since Romano used his only when they had guests and otherwise slept with his brother.

The closet was open, so Romano could see right away that some of Veneziano's clothes were missing. A quick look into the night stand drawer showed him that his passport was gone, too.

"Fuck," Romano growled through gritted teeth as he sat down on the bed. There was only one possible explanation. 

Veneziano must have gone to visit Germany. Without telling him. Horrifying scenarios started playing in his mind, but the worst of all was the sudden chilling suspicion that Veneziano hadn't told him because he didn't want Romano to come with him.

Which was of course fine because Romano didn't want to go to Germany anyway. But if Veneziano didn't want him to come, it could only mean that Romano had been terrible company the previous time. Maybe he had even ruined the whole weekend for his brother, and Veneziano just hadn't had the heart to tell him.

And now he wouldn't even take his calls so that he wouldn't have to hear from his brother while he was having fun.

Romano clenched his fists. The room felt bare and lonely all of a sudden, especially when he imagined Veneziano together with that bastard. God, what had Germany done to his little brother to make him so sneaky? It just wasn't right.

It was all Germany's fault. He was doing this to them and making his own brother mistrust him. Yeah, that was it. Veneziano would never ditch him like this. The bastard must have forced him into it. Romano had known from the start that nothing good would come from Veneziano being together with him, but had anyone listened to him? No, of course not.

He couldn't just sit here and let this go on. He'd – he'd figure out something!

Romano stuffed his hand into his pocket and fished out his phone. Sure, Veneziano wasn't taking his calls, but that anal-retentive bastard would! He probably couldn't go five minutes without checking his phone for important calls.

Good thing he had Germany's number saved in case he ever felt like bugging him with prank calls in the middle of the night or an important meeting. Romano gave it a moment of thought as he switched to unknown caller identity and decided to pretend to be France. He'd claim that there had been a miscalculation and that Germany actually still owed him ten thousand cuckoo clocks. That should give him a scare!

He picked the number and waited. And waited and waited. No answer.

"What the fuck?" Romano swore. Why wasn't the bastard picking up the phone?

Romano threw his cell phone on the bed in anger. He glared down at it for a moment, seething. Then he picked it up and called Germany again, leaving him a vicious voice mail with his best France impersonation.

But it didn't feel like it was enough. Bugging Germany gave him no satisfaction when he wasn't there to see his reaction. Besides, Germany probably wouldn't even notice his message because he was busy with – okay, Romano really, really didn't want to finish that thought.

Dammit, he thought. He just couldn't let this go on like this. He'd hop on the next plane to Germany and go there himself to tell the bastard just what he thought about luring his idiot brother into a plot like this.

For a moment, he considered calling Prussia first to test the waters. He didn't have his number saved, but he was sure he could find it in his phone's memory. Prussia had called him soon after the previous world meeting and had wanted to know why he had been looking for him.

At that point, Romano had already forgotten about his white lie to Germany. He had promptly told the truth; that he had absolutely nothing to say to him and had just used him as an excuse to keep Germany from bugging Spain and France. There had been a brief moment of silence, and then Prussia had chuckled and told him that Romano was out of his league anyway, so it was no surprise he couldn't come up with anything awesome enough to say to him. Then he had hung up.

Romano hadn't thought much about the short and strange call, but now he found himself thinking back to it. Had Prussia been disappointed that he hadn't really wanted to talk to him? He couldn't imagine why. They weren't even friends.

He stared at the phone but decided that he didn't really feel like talking to Prussia. He'd have to talk to him anyway when he arrived, and he'd rather postpone that for as long as he could.

***

Romano's resolve starting cracking when he was sitting on the plane. What the heck was he doing? He was going to make a complete fool of himself if he just arrived at Germany's house. But now it was too late to change his mind, unless he was going to book another flight straight at the airport and go right back home.

If I made it this far, I might just as well see this to the end, he thought.

He still hadn't developed a plan of any kind when he found himself standing outside Germany's house nearly four hours later. He decided to just suck it up and improvise when it came to confronting the others, so he rang the doorbell before he could start having even more second thoughts.

Nobody came to open the door, so he tried the doorbell again. Still no answer. Goddammit, what the hell was going on? Had the whole world teamed up against him?

"Open the fucking door!" he yelled and gave it a rebellious kick. Then another one and another one. He would have continued if it weren't for the fact that he saw someone move in the window of the house next door, and he didn't really want the cops called on him.

Thankfully, it was right then that the door was opened.

"The hell are you doing here?" Prussia asked.

Instead of answering, Romano just shoved him aside and stepped inside. "Where are they?" he asked.

"Who?" Prussia asked as he closed the door and followed Romano into the living room.

"My brother and the bastard!"

"Look, I have no idea what you're on about. West is in an important conference in Düsseldorf and I really don't think he'd take Italy there," Prussia said.

Romano snorted. "So, you got tricked, too, huh?"

"What?"

"My brother said he'd be in a meeting in Milan, but the house was empty. His clothes and passport were gone, so he must be here somewhere," Romano said.

Prussia stared at him, dumb-founded. "Wait, are you telling me that West lied to me? That he's actually spending a secret, romantic weekend with Italy?"

"That's right!"

"Wow, haha! I didn't think the goody-two-shoes had it in him! Maybe he's not hopeless after all."

"I don't think there's any reason to laugh," Romano said sourly. He hadn't counted on the possibility that Veneziano wouldn't be at Germany's house in Berlin, so he was now at a loss of what to do. He had no idea where to look next. Maybe he should just give up and go back home.

Prussia scratched his chin in thought before his face was split by an excited grin. "Hey, how about we go to stalk them? We could play some kind of cool prank on them as a punishment for lying to us!"

"I don't want to play a prank on my brother."

"Then let's just trick West!"

Romano considered it. All of his previous attempts to bug Germany had failed, often resulting in humiliating defeats. He still got shivers of embarrassment when he thought about the mortifying moustache incident from years ago. Maybe this was his chance to finally get revenge for that. If he had to work together with Prussia for a while, so be it.

"Deal. But how are we going to find them? They could be anywhere," he said.

"That's easy. I'll just log in to see West's credit card information. That should tell us where he bought a ticket to," Prussia said.

"He lets you use his credit card?" Romano asked in disbelief as they descended to the basement. That sounded like a financial suicide.

"Nah," Prussia said. "But I kind of helped myself to all his information in case there was ever an emergency. You never know. I might want to buy something." He grew silent as he typed, his fingers flying over the keyboard at an impossible speed.

"Why did it take you so long to open the door?" Romano asked.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was in the middle of a quest and had my headphones on, so I didn't hear you until you started taking the door apart," Prussia said. "Aha, here we go! Look at that. West had a plane ticket to Munich for yesterday."

"What does that help? It's a huge city, and for all we know, it's not even his final destination."

Prussia smiled triumphantly. "I know exactly where he is. We've got a nice little cottage in Wielenbach. It's pretty much in the middle of nowhere and boring as hell, but it's perfect for a secret weekend adventure with your boyfriend." He hummed and opened two new tabs. "Looks like we can't catch a flight today, and it takes around six hours by train to Munich. What do you say we let them enjoy each other's company for today and surprise them tomorrow?"

"Whatever," Romano said.

"Great! Man, this is going to be fun. I've got to admit, I didn't think you'd have the balls to barge in like that. You're a little overprotective, aren't you?"

"I'm not! I just don't like it that Veneziano does stuff behind my back."

"What, so you want him to tell you all about his weekends with West? Kinky."

"No! You know what I mean!" Romano snapped, feeling his face grow warm in anger and humiliation. "Don't tell me you're just fine with Germany tricking you like a fool. I bet he lied to you because he knew that you'd bug them constantly if you knew where they were."

"They didn't tell you either, so they sure as hell wanted to make sure you wouldn't be there!"

"Well, at least I would have been a smaller problem because I don't try to steal my brother's boyfriend all the time!"

"I could have Italy any day if I wanted to," Prussia said defensively.

Romano couldn't even be bothered to reply to that. He wasn't blind; it was obvious that Veneziano was head over the heels in love with Germany. He doubted he would ever understand why, and the wish that his brother would stop being so stupid one day was always included in his prayers, but that did nothing to change the plain truth.

"So, we're flying to Munich tomorrow? Then what, renting a car to get to the cottage?" he asked.

Prussia's attention was back on his computer. "I say we take the train," he said.

"Why? You said it takes six hours. Flying is a lot faster."

Prussia gritted his teeth and wouldn't turn to look at him. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to get plane tickets on such a short notice? It's cheaper to take the train," he said.

Romano hadn't even thought of that. He didn't need to. It wasn't as if they were all rolling in money just because they were representing their nations, but they usually made around the same average as their people. He could afford a few plane tickets, but maybe Prussia couldn't. Romano didn't think Prussia was the type to get a human job, and ex-nations didn't make money.

He could have easily used that to taunt him. The truth probably stung like hell.

"Why don't you use the bastard's credit card?" he asked instead. Better not annoy Prussia if they were supposed to be a team.

"Are you stupid? Do you have no sense of battle tactics?" Prussia asked. "First of all, if West finds out I can use his credit card, he's going to get a new one. It took me a really long time to get all his information. And secondly, that would leave a trace, and then he would know it was you and me who ruined his date."

"Then I'll –" Romano started, about to offer to pay for Prussia's ticket, but he caught himself just in time. Prussia was still delusional about his past glory. If he hurt his pride, he might back off from the plan entirely. "I guess we'll take the train then. I like them better anyway."

"Yeah, me too! Planes suck," Prussia said eagerly.

***

The next day, they asked the neighbours to look after the dogs and got on an early train to Munich, which they nearly missed because they both hated getting up in the morning. Much of the trip was spent in silence; Romano was reading a book he had bought at the station, and Prussia had brought along some kind of hand-held game.

They rented a car when they arrived in Munich. Prussia seemed surprised when Romano made no comments about his driving and lack of respect for about half of all traffic rules. Romano in turn was surprised that Prussia was surprised; he thought Prussia's driving was perfectly normal. 

After around an hour of driving, they finally arrived in Wielenbach. They left the car in town and decided to walk to their destination, which was located closer to the mountains. This was fine with Romano. The hours sitting on the train had left him feeling stiff, so he was glad to get some exercise.

"There it is," Prussia said after they had been following a tiny path for nearly three quarters of an hour.

"If they aren't here, I'm going to kill you," Romano said.

Prussia shrugged. "If they aren't here, we can have our own Bavarian vacation."

"Like hell."

Romano stopped when Prussia's hand suddenly shot out before him. 

"Not so fast. They'll see us if we come from this direction," Prussia said.

"They'll see us from any direction. There are no trees!"

"There are fewer windows on the eastern side. We should corner them from there."

"And then what? We haven't actually planned anything."

Dammit, Romano thought. He didn't even have an extra moustache with him. They should have thought about this when they were still in town or in Munich so that they could have prepared something.

"We can improvise. And hey, if we just show up crying and say we're really hurt and angry that our darling little brothers lied to us, it should make them both feel so guilty that they'll immediately cancel their sexy weekend and buy us dinner. Doesn't that sound good?" Prussia suggested.

"It's better than nothing. And I've already wasted half the day to come here, so I had better get something out of this, even if it's just your crappy food."

And so they advanced on the cottage, led by Prussia who claimed he was the expert. In no time, they stood with their backs against the wooden wall. There was one window, and it was slightly open. As luck would have it, Germany and Italy just happened to be in that room.

It was a bedroom, Romano realised with some discomfort as he took a quick glance inside. He couldn't see his brother or the bastard anywhere, so he supposed they were lying on the bed that was right under the window. Only their quiet voices betrayed their presence.

Prussia showed him his palm with all fingers up. He started the count-down. Five, four, three, two, one...

Prussia drew a breath and opened his mouth to begin their attack.

"Mmm, Germany. Aren't you glad that I convinced you to forget about work and come here this weekend?" Veneziano asked, his voice relaxed and sleepy.

"It's nice," Germany admitted.

Prussia let out the breath and made no sound, choosing to listen instead.

"I told you so! It's been so long since it was just the two of us."

The bed creaked. Romano could imagine his brother leaning closer to Germany.

"It is quite a relaxing feeling not to have to worry about any catastrophe taking us by surprise," Germany said.

Veneziano sighed contently. "We should do this more often. I'm so happy to be with you. I love it when our brothers are around, but sometimes I want just Germany."

"I don't like it that we lied to them."

"We'll make it up to them. Let's buy them some nice presents on the way home."

Romano glanced at Prussia. His expression had turned from triumphant to thoughtful. Romano could sympathise; his vicious delight in seeing Germany humiliated had somehow faded a little.

Another creak of the bed.

"Italy, what are you –"

Romano and Prussia stared at each other. No words were exchanged, but Romano was sure they understood each other perfectly at that moment. Prussia grabbed Romano's arm and started dragging him away, but that was only because he was faster and made the first move. If he hadn't, Romano would have done the same to him.

Once they were safely away, they stopped to lean against a fence that stood by the side of the road. Prussia gave an irritated kick to a rock lying at his feet.

"Some prankster you are," he muttered.

"What? You're the one who bragged so much and then didn't lift a finger when the time for action came!" 

"Well, I changed my mind," Prussia said, his expression almost akin to pouting. "I mean, if West is in a happy and healthy relationship, how is that any of my business? I don't care, so I don't need to ruin it. If I did, it would look like I'm jealous, which I'm so not."

It was an excuse, Romano knew, and a particularly pathetic one at that. However, he didn't really feel like pointing it out and rubbing it to Prussia's face.

"What about you? Why didn't you do anything?" Prussia asked.

"Then my brother would have cried for a week, and he's fucking annoying when he's sad. I don't need that crap," Romano said.

Prussia chuckled. "Sure," he said, and Romano knew that he had seen through his excuse as well. They kind of sucked at lying, he realised.

They stood in silence for a while.

"So, what now?" Prussia asked.

Romano wanted to snap that he was going home. Prussia should drive him back to Munich straight away, and then he'd hop on a plane and leave this miserable country once and for all. It was the only sensible thing to do.

And yet he hesitated. Veneziano had sounded so happy. Romano wasn't sure if he really wanted to go back home to sit alone and think about how gleeful he had been about the prospect of ruining his brother's date.

No wonder Veneziano had lied to him. Why wouldn't he when his brother was so selfish and petty?

"We can catch a train and go back to Berlin. The fridge is full of beer," Prussia said. He crossed his hands behind his head and turned to look up to the sky. "But I totally get it if you're too much of a wuss and don't want to."

"Whatever," Romano said.

"Really?" Prussia asked in a startled tone.

"It's not like I have anything better to – hey!" Romano started, but before he could finish, Prussia had given him a shove down the road.

"Let's hurry, then! It's going to be at least seven hours before we're back home!"

***

Even when they were sitting on the train, Prussia had a hard time believing that Romano had agreed to come back to Berlin with him. His suggestion had been half a joke, and he had expected Romano to decline right away and bite his head off. That was actually why he had invited him in the first place. He had figured that a good, violent row with someone might distract him from the irritating guilt he was feeling.

Prussia knew how much Germany loved Italy. His brother was suffering from permanent emotional constipation, but even then, the signs were so clear that Prussia would have had to be blind not to notice. He had nothing against that, though he was the first to admit that if Italy were willing, he wouldn't turn him down. Someone so cute was the perfect match for someone as awesome as him.

But Italy wasn't willing, so Prussia was content with bugging him for attention and throwing a few suggestive comments at him, though those were mostly to annoy Germany. In fact, almost everything he did these days served to annoy his brother or anyone who crossed paths with him. It was the surest way to be noticed. He very much preferred negative attention to being ignored.

And yet, he was glad they had backed off before Germany and Italy had noticed them. He had heard it in Germany's voice – this was one of the rare moments when he had allowed himself to relax and not worry about anything. His brother was always working too hard, dragging along the eastern part of the country that even today couldn't measure up to the western side. 

Italy was the only one who could make Germany forget about work for a moment. Because of that, Prussia would never seriously try to separate them. He couldn't help but feel a little bad about almost ruining this weekend for his brother.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that the train was slowing down. Curious, he glanced out the window to see if they were approaching a station, but all he could see were green fields and a quaint little village in the horizon.

"What's this?" he wondered out loud.

He wasn't the only one. The people sitting around them were beginning to grumble to each other about how it was always like this and that it had better not take too long this time. Prussia didn't often travel by train. Even in the second class, it was an expensive luxury. Still, as five minutes passed and nothing happened, he found himself loudly agreeing with everyone and cursing trains to the lowest level of hell as if this happened to him every day.

"I need to switch trains in Nürnberg! If I'm even ten minutes late, I won't make it!" a man to his left was complaining.

"I knew I should have travelled by car, but I thought this would be more comfortable!"

"When I was younger, trains were always punctual!"

"Yeah, screw this. Everything used to be better. Let's say, two hundred years ago when –"

"Would you all just shut the fuck up? I'm trying to read!"

Everyone grew silent and turned to stare at Romano, Prussia even more startled than the others.

"Get your nose out of the book. Haven't you noticed that the train stopped and we'll be late?" he asked.

Romano glared at him like he was the stupidest person in the world. "Trains are always late. It's not a reason to burst a vein, you idiot. We aren't even in a hurry to go anywhere," he said.

Prussia had no answer to that. He was trying his hardest to process the fact that Romano – Romano of all people! -- was being the voice of reason.

"It's not like we can do anything but wait, so there's no point in getting angry," Romano added when he noticed that Prussia was staring at him.

"But –" Prussia started, but it was right then that the train started moving again.

"That wasn't even that long. Try travelling by train at my place," Romano said.

For the next half an hour, Prussia pretended to be playing Pokémon on his Nintendo DS (man, his Torchic was the cutest!), but he actually kept stealing glances at Romano every chance he got. Romano's attention was still in his book, and he was reading it with a light frown on his face. It was his default expression, so there was nothing interesting in it itself.

It was the fact that Romano had just acted in such an atypical way for himself. Prussia would have never expected him to show patience in any situation. He had thought Romano was easy to read and completely one-dimensional in every way – Italy's short-tempered brother who yelled a lot and nothing more. Granted, not snapping when a train was late wasn't exactly a ground-breaking turn of events, but it made Prussia wonder if there were more surprises lurking under that scowl.

If yes, he wondered what he'd have to do to lure them out.


	9. Chapter 9

It was already past midnight when they arrived at Germany's house. They were both tired, even Prussia who usually stayed up far later into the night – or early morning. Something about travelling just sucked the energy out of a person, even when it consisted of mostly nothing but sitting around on one's ass.

"I'm hungry," Romano complained.

"Me, too," Prussia said. "We could order pizzas."

Romano stared at him like they were at a funeral and Prussia was taking a leak in the coffin.

"Hell no! Just thinking about eating pizza in Germany makes me sick!" he yelled.

"Then our options are pretty limited. I'm too tired to go anywhere, so we're either ordering something or cooking."

"I'm not eating anything made by you," Romano said.

"Fine, whatever," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. He walked to the kitchen with the intention of descending to the basement to look for the numerous flyers for fast food restaurants that he had stashed somewhere. However, he stopped at the door to the utility room when he noticed that Romano had gone to take a peek into the kitchen cupboards.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if there's anything here. Veneziano is always talking about what he cooks for you two bastards, so you must have a stash of something edible somewhere," Romano said.

"Spaghetti behind the flour in the cupboard to your left, spices in the one next to that, pans and kettles right from the dishwasher and tomatoes and paprika in the second locker in the fridge right next to the milk," Prussia said, not even stopping to think.

Romano turned to stare at him with a disbelieving frown.

Prussia shrugged. "West is really anal-retentive about the way the groceries are stocked. Everything has a place appointed to it. When you live with him long enough, you learn it all by heart." He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm the one who taught him to respect proper order, but he took it a little too seriously."

"No kidding," Romano said. He opened the cupboards Prussia had mentioned and started gathering ingredients on the kitchen counter. He refused Prussia's help and shooed him away when he tried to grab a tomato.

"We'll die of food poisoning if you stick your nose into this," Romano said.

Prussia had no choice but to take a seat and watch the other nation work. He noticed right away that Romano had a very different style of cooking than Italy. Italy always looked like he was doing several things at once and like he wasn't really putting any effort into it. It looked so easy when he did it. Romano, on the other hand, was much more precise. He was frowning in concentration and didn't let anything distract him from one task before he was finished with it.

"Hehe, this time you actually are cooking for me. I knew it would happen one day if I just waited patiently," Prussia said. He could only hope he wouldn't get a kettle to the face this time.

"I'm not cooking for you! I'm cooking for myself. The only reason there'll be enough for two is that I don't want these ingredients to go to waste. You bastards are so obsessed with recycling that I'd get a headache if I tried to sort all this into the right garbage cans," Romano said.

"Just admit that you love us," Prussia said. He wasn't surprised when Romano shot a downright murderous glare in his direction. 

It didn't take long before the kitchen smelled of boiling tomato sauce. Prussia's stomach grumbled, and he didn't think the spaghetti could cook fast enough.

Romano dumped all the utensils he had used into the sink. "You're doing the dishes."

"We have a dishwasher," Prussia reminded him.

"Then you're filling it."

"Fine, fine. But first I want to eat so that I know if the hassle was worth the trouble."

Silence fell between them as they waited for the food to get ready. Prussia tried to think of a topic they could talk about without it escalating into yelling from Romano and insults from him, but there weren't too many of them. Or maybe the problem was with them and not the topics. Prussia was the first to admit that it was a rare day when he had a serious conversation about anything. Talking with someone like Romano who gave him endless openings for snide comments, he just couldn't help himself.

Some time later, they settled down to eat. Prussia took a few beers from the fridge and placed them between them on the table.

"I hope you weren't expecting anything fancier. West usually keeps some wine around for your brother, but we don't have any right now," he said.

"It'll do."

Prussia was starving, so he was sure he would have gladly eaten even the bottom of a shoe, but he was still surprised by how good the spaghetti was. Romano had used more spices than Italy who always held back a little because Germany wasn't fond of strong food. Prussia liked to think he wasn't a wuss like his brother, so he much preferred Romano's approach.

At first he was so busy stuffing his mouth that nothing else caught his attention, but then he noticed that Romano kept sending wary glances to his direction. Was he looking at his reaction? Maybe he wanted to know what he thought of the food.

"It's really good," Prussia said.

Romano merely snorted and turned his eyes away.

"No, really! I mean it. I like it a lot better than Italy's cooking." 

"Yeah, right," Romano mumbled.

"What? You think I'm lying? Why would I lie about that?"

"Because you're an asshole."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "You've got some serious issues, you know. Normal people would just accept the compliment and be happy," he said, but then he noticed how Romano immediately turned his eyes to his plate and started shovelling food into his mouth.

He waited a while to see if a counter insult was coming, but nothing happened.

"What? What did I say this time?" Prussia asked, unnerved by the silence.

“Shut up.”

“It's basic manners to answer when someone asks you a question. Or is even that too much to ask of a grouchy loser like you?”

Romano glared at him with such hate in his eyes that Prussia couldn't help but be a little taken aback.

“And then you wonder why I don't want your fucking compliments. You say something nice now, but next you'll say something crappy and ruin it, so there's no point in getting happy in the first place," Romano grumbled.

Prussia placed his fork on his plate and stared at Romano in confusion. "Is this about those times when I insulted you or called you stupid or something? Because you've given me a fair share of that back, so it would be pretty hypocritical of you to get all –"

"I can take insults!" Romano snapped. "I just... Never mind!" He spent a moment staring at his food. Then he jumped abruptly to his feet. "Fuck this. I'm going home."

"Hey, all I did was say that your cooking is better than Italy's!" Prussia called out after him.

There was the sound of the front door being opened and slammed shut. For a moment, Prussia only stared at Romano's empty seat and tried to digest what had just happened. Had he said something that was worse than what he usually said?

With a sigh, he got up and went after Romano. Luckily, the other nation hadn't made it far down the street and had stopped to stand near one of the street lamps that illuminated the area, so Prussia easily caught up with him.

He froze before he got too close. The clenched fists and the trembling of Romano's shoulders told him that he was crying. Prussia hadn't thought it would be that bad.

"Okay, whatever I said, I take it back, so stop bawling," he said.

"Fuck you," Romano growled, his voice thick.

"Hey, I'm sorry!"

"It's not an apology if you don't even know what you're apologizing for!"

Prussia groaned and scratched his head. He couldn't deal with this. He wasn't fluent in Romano's strange tantrums the way Spain was. Maybe he should have listened a bit more carefully whenever Spain had talked about his relationship with the Italian nation.

“Well, you know, I don't think I even need to apologize in the first place.”

He watched how Romano leaned against the street lamp, keeping his back turned to him so that he couldn't see his tears. Romano was breathing in shaky gulps of air that Prussia knew all too well; that was what it was like when you were trying to pretend that you weren't really crying.

Fuck, this was awkward. It usually took a lot more for him to make anyone cry. It was fun when he did it on purpose, but this time he really had no idea what he had done.

"I hate you all."

Romano's voice was so quiet that at first Prussia thought he had imagined it.

"What?" he asked.

"I said I hate you, asshole! You're all the same! I get so fucking tired of people saying stupid shit to me and then acting like I'm overreacting when I get angry! Like now!" Romano yelled. 

Prussia was starting to have the feeling that it wasn't really his fault that Romano was upset. Maybe he had triggered something that had already been bothering him, or maybe Romano was just tired after the long day.

"You can't really go anywhere in the middle of the night like this. We should get back inside," he said. Some more food and a few beers, and everything would be back to normal.

"I'm not going anywhere with a fucking bastard like you!"

Okay, that did it. Prussia didn't have much patience in the first place, and now he was definitely starting to run out of it. It wasn't like he enjoyed being the victim of constant verbal abuse.

"What the hell is your problem? I'm actually going out of my way to be nice to you here! Why can't you put some effort into doing the same?” he snarled. “Wait, right. You said you hate everyone. That's just as well because with that attitude, I'm sure the world hates you right back!”

At that, Romano whirled around to glare at him. His face was covered in angry, red blotches. His eyes were red and swollen, and his nose was running. The scowl that was probably supposed to be menacing wasn't quite convincing enough. He looked lost and sad, and Prussia got the feeling he had just kicked a sick puppy.

“Fuck you,” Romano growled.

“Is that all you can say? Looks like I'm right, so you can't even be bothered to deny what I just said.”

“Shut up!” Romano's voice was close to screaming and cracked as he continued, “Do you think I don't know that? I don't need you of all people to tell me that! I know! I'm fucking pathetic and can't do anything right!”

Prussia hadn't expected that, so he had no retort ready. He could only stare.

Romano, however, could go on without problems. “Isn't that what you wanted to hear, asshole? Well? Where's your next insult? When are you going to start laughing?”

Prussia couldn't say he felt particularly victorious. He couldn't remain angry when Romano looked so pitiful, and he didn't enjoy teasing people who put no effort into fighting back. He was starting to wish he had never come after the other nation.

“I'm going back inside. There's still plenty of beer, so... join me when you feel like it,” he said, suddenly unable to keep looking Romano in the eyes.

He didn't wait for Romano to answer but turned around and marched back to the house. He left the door unlocked in case Romano decided to follow him, but he couldn't even begin to guess if he would.

The spaghetti was getting cold, and he kept poking at it unhappily as he wondered if he should put it in the microwave or give up and stuff himself with peanut curls like he usually did. He decided to go for a happy medium and opened a bottle of beer instead.

When he was half done drinking it, he heard the front door open and close. It was a quiet sound, almost shy, and he figured Romano had let out most of his steam. Maybe he had just needed to cry alone to get his problems out of his system.

"So you decided to come back after all," he said as Romano entered the kitchen.

"It's going to start raining. Like hell I'm staying out there," Romano grumbled. His eyes were red, and Prussia thought he looked pretty awful, but at least he wasn't crying anymore. The stiff anger had left his shoulders.

Prussia offered him a bottle of beer, but Romano made no move to take it. "Do you throw tantrums like that often, or am I just that special?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you."

"Sorry, but if you're going to act like that around me, the least you can do is tell me what I said to make you crack like that. I'm awesome, but I can't read minds, you know."

From the way Romano winced, Prussia figured he had just poked at the core of the problem.

"And why not talk to me? You hate me, so why does my opinion matter?" he asked.

"Why would you even want to listen?" Romano asked.

"I think the beer is getting to me. And that's another plus. If I drink enough, tomorrow I won't remember anything you tell me."

Romano gritted his teeth and glared at his hands on the table. He looked tempted, so Prussia kept quiet and took a gulp of his beer. He was a little surprised at himself for having offered to listen, but he figured it was necessary if he didn't want the rest of the weekend to be miserable. And he liked to think that he wasn't as much of an asshole as everyone thought he was.

"I can't talk about it," Romano said after a moment of silence.

“Well, why the hell not?”

“I just can't, okay? It's none of your business!”

“You kind of made it my business by insulting me at my home. Besides, you already told me quite a lot,” Prussia pointed out.

“Just... forget about that. I'm going home tomorrow, so let's not mention it again,” Romano said.

Prussia took a gulp of his beer and sighed. “You're pretty intent on pretending you have no problems. It doesn't make them disappear,” he said.

“As if I need you to tell me that.”

“Fine, don't talk to me. But at least have this beer,” Prussia said and grabbed the bottle he had offered him earlier. He opened it and pushed it before him once more. 

Romano hesitated a moment but accepted it this time. He took a long gulp.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem. There's plenty more.”

“Not the beer, you idiot!”

"Huh?"

Romano wrapped both of his hands around the bottle and stared at it. “Thanks for not trying to hug me or any comforting crap like that,” he muttered.

“What makes you think I would ever do that?” Prussia asked.

“That's what Spain would do.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It just makes everything even more fucked up,” Romano said, and the self-loathing in his voice made Prussia freeze in the middle of lifting his bottle to his lips. Okay, it looked like they were talking about Romano's issues after all.

"Everything you all say about me is true. I can't take compliments. I can't give them. I can't do anything right, and I can't ever tell anyone how I really feel. I just expect everyone to know what's bothering me and wait for them to fix it for me. I'm fucking pathetic."

Judging by the shaking of Romano's voice, he was going to start crying again. Prussia tried to come up with something quick to say, but there was no denying the fact that Romano kind of had a point. He was pretty unlikeable as far as his personality went.

“I know all that. And... and I want to get better. It's not like I enjoy being messed up like this. But how the hell am I supposed to do it if he just hugs me and strokes my hair or whatever stupid idea he gets?” Romano continued.

“Yeah, I guess that's like hiding the problems under the carpet or something. Out of sight but still there,” Prussia mused.

He wasn't expecting Romano to lift his eyes at that and look at him in surprise, like he had just discovered the meaning of life and declared it to the whole world.

“What?” he asked.

Romano immediately turned his gaze away again.

“Nothing.”

Silence fell between them, and no matter how hard he tried, Prussia couldn't come up with anything cool to say.

"Hey, have some more beer," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"Like that's going to help," Romano said, but he did just that. After two more gulps, he continued, "No wonder it didn't work out with me and Spain. I had to end it so that he wouldn't have to put up with me anymore."

"That's why you did it?" Prussia asked in surprise.

Romano nodded and took another sip of his beer. The bottle was quickly growing empty.

"So, you're still in love with Spain but you broke up with him anyway? That was pretty stupid," Prussia said.

"No. I haven't been in love with Spain in a long time. I just liked to think that I was because it was safe," Romano said. He turned the bottle around in his hand and squinted his eyes as he looked at the label. "Fuck, what the hell am I doing, talking about this crap with a bastard like you? Did you put something into my beer?"

"Nah, and you haven't drunk nearly enough to blame the beer anyway. I think you just really, really wanted to let that out," Prussia said, and he couldn't help but grin despite the circumstances. It was almost adorable how awkward and uncertain Romano was.

"Fuck you."

"I've got something stronger if you want an excuse for anything else you might say," Prussia suggested.

"I'm not going to say anything else. And it's you who had better start drinking more because I don't want you to remember any of that in the morning!"

Prussia chuckled. "Hey, no problem. I'd do that anyway. But before I forget everything, maybe I should tell you a thing or two."

Romano didn't answer, but from the way he refused to meet Prussia's eyes, it was obvious that he didn't want to hear anything he had to say. He probably expected to be buried in taunts and laughter. All things considered, it fit perfectly into the puzzle that Romano had just let him see.

"Okay, here we go," Prussia said, but then he stopped to consider and scratch the back of his head. "Wait, give me another moment. I'm not that good at this."

He took a big gulp of his beer to win some time. "So, first things first, I think you're maybe being a little too hard on yourself. I mean, sure, you're pretty insufferable, and sometimes I wonder why your brother puts up with you and – hey, don't look at me like that, I'm getting to the point!" He paused to think. "Yeah, so I'd say that the fact that you're crying your eyes out about this is actually a good thing. It means that you've at least acknowledged the problem, so all you've got to do now is to learn not to be such a bitch all the time."

Romano glared at him. "Is that supposed to be helpful?"

"Hey, I said I'm not that good at this!"

"You fucking suck."

Prussia shrugged and walked to the fridge to get more beer for them. "Well, I tried. Go back to crying if that makes you feel better," he said.

"You're so pathetic at giving advice that I have to pity you, so I can't even cry anymore," Romano said.

"Hey, see? That actually means I'm awesome at comforting you. Next time you feel like crying, just think about me and you'll feel better right away!"

"Yeah, right," Romano said with a roll of his eyes. "And one thing. If you ever tell anyone about what I just said, I'm going to kill you."

Prussia lifted his new bottle of beer. "I'll have forgotten it by morning, remember?"

"You had better."

"But don't you think it would get better if you told your brother? And maybe Spain? How is anything going to change if you just keep it to yourself?" Prussia asked.

"I don't want them to know," Romano said. "They already make me feel like shit anyway."

"Huh, you've lost me there. Italy and Spain are the nicest people I know. Do you mean they have some secret sadistic sides I don't know about?"

"No, and that's the problem. They're too goddamn perfect."

Ah, Prussia thought he might be starting to see the bigger picture, bit by bit. He was a little surprised it had taken him so long.

"So that's why it bugged you when I said your cooking is better than Italy's. But I actually meant it. And even if I say something stupid later, it doesn't change what I already said. So stop feeling like you aren't good enough because you are," he said.

Romano opened his mouth, but Prussia continued before he could get a word in.

"And before you tell me to go to hell, just one more thing. You aren't doing yourself any favours by being so bitchy all the time. I don't really know what you're trying to accomplish, but it just makes everything worse," he said. 

"You think I don't know that?" Romano asked, fresh blotches of anger appearing on his face.

"I'm just pointing out what I just figured out," Prussia said. He shook his head to himself. "Man, I'm actually pretty good at this after all."

"I spelled everything out for you! You'd have to be a moron not to get it!"

"Whatever. But hey, we've still got the fridge full of beer. You wanna help me drink it so that we've both forgotten this whole awkward thing by morning?" Prussia asked.

"Hell, it's not like I have anything better to do," Romano said.

***

When Prussia woke up, he didn't at first realise where he was. His back ached, he was shivering from cold, and he really, really had to go to the bathroom. As he picked himself up from amidst the empty beer bottles, he realised that he had fallen asleep on the floor in the living room.

The TV was still on and was showing some kind of early morning chat program that only lonely and miserable people watched. Today's host was Prussia's favourite.

It was still dark outside, but the light from the TV illuminated the room enough to show that Romano was sleeping on the couch.

Even when he was asleep, there was the slightest frown on Romano's face, but otherwise he looked surprisingly peaceful and calm. Prussia ignored the demands of his bladder for another moment and just watched the sleeping nation. He was... almost cute like that, he realised. No, he really was. When Romano wasn't yelling and bitching, he was just as cute as his brother, if not even cuter.

I think I overdid it yesterday, Prussia thought as his eyes wandered to the empty bottles on the floor. His thoughts weren't making any sense. And fuck, now he wanted to pinch Romano's cheeks.

Knowing that all hell would break loose if he even tried that, Prussia started dragging himself towards the bathroom, hoping that he wouldn't stumble and wake up Romano. He didn't think his pounding head could take a single loud insult right now.


	10. Chapter 10

Romano groaned as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His back hurt. His head felt stuffy, and his thoughts were slow and jumbled. He could feel his heartbeat deep inside his skull. And God, what was that terrible taste in his mouth? Had he been eating out of a garbage can or something?

He sat up and rubbed his face. As he moved his legs to the floor to stand up, he felt them brush against something that made a clinking sound. He slowly opened his eyes.

Beer bottles. A whole ocean of them. Just what the hell had – 

And then he remembered everything that happened. He had let Prussia see him cry like a complete loser. And... and he had said so many stupid things to him!

Feeling like he wanted to die, Romano grabbed a pillow and buried his face into it. Holy hell, what had he been thinking? What had happened to common sense and self-preservation? Why had he shared something so intimate and painful with a complete asshole?

Romano quickly scanned the living room, but he couldn't see the other nation anywhere. Good, maybe he had passed out elsewhere or had dragged himself to the basement. That gave Romano the perfect chance to get the hell out of here without having to face him.

He made quick plans. He'd just leave. He'd buy a toothbrush and something to eat on the way to the airport and try to make himself presentable in the public bathroom. Then he'd get on a plane and never again in his life come to this house. Veneziano could pick up his things the next time he visited the bastard.

He stood up in determination, swaying only a little and trying to ignore the wave of nausea that hit him as started tiptoeing towards the front door. He almost made it when there was a sudden crash from the kitchen that made him freeze.

"Shit! Fuck!"

Curious, Romano couldn't help but turn around and go take a look. He reached the entrance to the kitchen and saw Prussia sitting on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and holding his foot in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Romano asked.

"Oh, good morning! I'm making coffee."

"Sure as hell doesn't look like it."

"I got a little distracted when these cups fell down on me," Prussia explained. "West must have been a little careless the last time he emptied the dishwasher."

"More like you've got such a hangover that your hands are shaking like you're having a seizure."

"Why do you think I was making coffee in the first place?"

Romano didn't answer as he kept glaring at the still sitting nation. To be honest, coffee would do him some good right now. Maybe it would wash away that terrible taste in his mouth and make him feel a little more relaxed. _Then_ he could go home.

"Get out of my way. I'm making the coffee," he announced.

"Be my guest. I'm a little busy. Damn, I think I've got glass in my foot!"

Romano went about making the coffee and ignored Prussia's curses and hisses as he tended to his foot. He was somewhat amused to notice that Prussia used enough band aids to make it look like he had stuck his foot into a meat grinder. He was barely bleeding, so the whole thing had to be just another show for attention's sake.

"So, what are you planning to do today?" Prussia asked when they had settled down at the table and were both holding cups of steaming coffee.

"I'm going home as soon as I'm done drinking this," Romano said.

Prussia's face fell, but he was quick to hide it under confusion. "What? Why?"

Romano couldn't believe that Prussia had to ask. In fact, he couldn't believe that he hadn't already picked the best pieces of Romano's catastrophic sobbing from the previous night and used them to insult him. Or maybe he was just waiting for an even better opening.

He took a sip of his coffee so that he wouldn't have to answer. Even though he was glaring at the table, he was sure that Prussia's eyes were on him.

"Wait, is it because of yesterday? Or earlier today, whatever." 

"I thought you said you'd drink enough to forget," Romano growled.

"Sorry. I guess there just wasn't enough beer to get someone as tough as me to completely black out," Prussia said with a cackle. "But hey, you don't have to leave because of that. As long you don't make a habit out of it, I don't mind you occasionally bawling your eyes out and telling me your most intimate secrets!"

Romano pushed his coffee away. He could buy more at the airport. "I'm leaving."

"No, wait! That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you don't have to feel embarrassed or anything. I won't mention it again if you don't want to, and I won't tell anyone," Prussia said.

"And why should I trust you?" Romano asked with a snort.

"For one thing, what you told me isn't humiliating or funny. If you'd said that you secretly like to dress up in a tutu and think about Russia when you – okay, okay, I won't finish that. It's pretty sick. But the point is that there would be nothing funny about teasing you right now, so I won't," Prussia said.

Romano supposed that made some twisted kind of sense. He realised that he actually wanted to believe that and not just so that Prussia wouldn't be poking him where it hurt the most. His heart felt light. Maybe it had done him some good to say all that, even if it was Prussia he had confided in.

Or maybe that was exactly it. Veneziano or Spain would be fussing all over him and treating him like he was made of glass. The way Prussia talked to him made him feel almost normal. Like he was strong and could stand on his own feet.

"You promise?" he asked.

Prussia's grin widened. "Cross my heart and hope to die. If I want to make fun of you, I have enough ammunition already. I don't need the stuff from yesterday," he said.

"Good. Because if you break that promise, I'll –"

"Kill me?"

"Make you eat England's cooking!"

Prussia made a disgusted face. "Hey, now that's cruel!"

"That's the point, moron."

"But now that I promised to be good, does that mean you'll still hang around for a bit?" Prussia asked.

"I guess," Romano replied. He was suddenly all too aware of how warm his face felt, and he didn't even know why he was feeling so awkward. He knew it made no sense to be happy about being invited to stay for longer when it was Prussia doing the inviting, but he couldn't help it. It was nice that someone wanted him around.

"Good!" Prussia exclaimed. "I was afraid I'd have to clean up our mess all on my own!"

"The fuck? That's why you want me to stay?" Romano asked.

"Well, I also need someone to help me carry all the beer when I go to the grocery store," Prussia said.

"You still want more beer after last night?"

"Of course. Besides, West is coming back this evening, and he'll get pissy if there's no beer," Prussia said.

"Would he actually care?" Romano asked. He had a hard time imagining even Germany getting upset over a little detail like that.

"Oh, you have no idea. He gets upset by the stupidest things," Prussia said with a laugh. "In fact, if you're going to stick around, I'll show you."

Prussia got up and walked to the cupboard that he had restocked after his little accident. When he opened it, Romano saw that the cups and glasses were organized perfectly so that the everything with a handle was on the left and everything without on the right. Prussia took a few of them and switched their places so that no order was left.

"There," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "When West comes home, you'll see how much this will piss him off."

Romano couldn't understand how Prussia could be in such an energetic mood after they had spent almost the entire night drinking and getting very little sleep. His whole body felt stiff, and he would have loved to curl into a soft bed where he could forget about his headache.

"You want some breakfast?" Prussia asked. "Though I guess we should actually call it lunch."

Romano's stomach clenched at the mere thought. "I'm never eating anything again," he said.

"If you change your mind, let me know," Prussia said. He went to take a look into another cupboard and took out a bag of peanut curls. He opened it, and the stench that spread into the kitchen nearly made Romano gag.

"How can you eat those? They're disgusting!"

"They're the perfect hangover breakfast," Prussia said and flipped a few snacks into his mouth.

For a while, Romano just watched Prussia munch on his terrible excuse of a breakfast. As he glanced at the clock, he saw that it was already past midday. He didn't feel like doing anything productive. Even going to the grocery store felt like it took too much energy.

"So, what do you usually do on Sundays?" he asked.

"All kinds of cool stuff! If you want, I'll show you how to play WoW," Prussia said. When he saw Romano's unimpressed expression, he swiftly continued, "Or we can go get the dogs from the neighbours and take them out for a walk."

"At least that would be normal," Romano said. He had to wonder if there was room for anything that wasn't pathetic in Prussia's life. From what he had seen so far, he did nothing but drink beer, play with his computer and bug everyone in his life.

Romano suddenly felt a little better about his own problems.

***

They did end up taking the dogs out once they felt secure enough to walk without swaying. Romano very much enjoyed how Prussia had to grovel at the feet of the elderly couple who had looked after the three dogs while they were chasing their brothers and drowning themselves in beer.

"Prissy assholes," Prussia muttered as they were leaving. "They're always complaining about everything, and my brother is too much of a wuss to tell them where they can stick their ancient family line and mansion they haven't owned in two generations. They're just a bunch of bitter losers who can't let go of past glory."

"Sounds like someone I know," Romano said. He was clutching Blackie's leash in his hands so hard that his knuckles were turning white. The dog was actually behaving marvellously, probably due to Germany's training, but he wasn't used to dogs and couldn't help but be a little nervous.

"I'm nothing like them!" Prussia snapped. "Unlike them, I have something going on in my life! I'm important! If I wasn't here, all of you would be so sorry."

Romano was about to point out that winning a war in some crappy online game didn't count as an accomplishment as a nation, but he thought better of it when he saw the frown on Prussia's face. He could deny it all he wanted, but it was clear he was all too aware of the truth.

They stopped to sit on a bench under a large tree. Prussia let all three dogs free so that they could play. Romano was pretty sure it wasn't allowed to do that, but he wasn't going to start nagging about rules to someone who seemed determined to break as many of them as possible.

"Someone has to take out the dogs when West is in some boring meeting," Prussia said. "And look after the house, take out the garbage cans, pick up the mail and make sure there's always beer in the fridge. Oh, and I go out to drink with Spain, France, Denmark and many others, so I'm actually taking care of casual diplomatics with other countries. West would never do that. That's a lot more awesome than some boring paperwork, so out of the two of us, I'm the lucky one! West wouldn't survive a day without me."

"That's total crap," Romano said.

"Oh, yeah?" Prussia challenged. "Isn't that exactly what you do? It's always Italy taking care of your country. That's why everyone calls him Italy and not you!"

"I let Veneziano do that! I have much better things to do!"

"Like what?"

It occurred to Romano that Prussia would probably laugh at the things he did for fun. Tending to a small tomato farm, spending a whole day drinking coffee and talking to strangers at a café and marvelling at gorgeous architecture weren't things he could imagine Prussia appreciating. 

"Seems like you can't answer," Prussia said with a triumphant grin.

"It's none of your business what I do! It's still better than locking yourself in the basement and playing video games the whole day," Romano said.

Prussia simply snorted in a way that told Romano he thought he had won the argument. That infuriated him more than wanted to admit, and he couldn't even say why. It was just like Prussia had said the previous night; his opinion of Romano shouldn't be of any importance whatsoever.

They called the dogs back and returned to the house. Their next destination was the grocery store at Friedrichstraße. This time Romano didn't let Prussia get distracted because it was hard enough to carry all the beer they bought, and the last thing they needed was a pile of junk food to add to their problems.

“That should be enough for a while,” Prussia said when they were done stocking the fridge. There was now more beer than food inside.

Romano glanced at the clock. It was getting close to five, and now that he didn't feel so sick anymore, he was beginning to get hungry. However, he felt too lazy to cook.

The half finished bag of peanut curls was still on the kitchen counter. Making a face, he picked it up and peered inside. They didn't smell that bad after all. He figured he might just as well give them a chance.

“Good, aren't they?” Prussia asked when Romano started munching on his second handful.

“I'm so hungry that I can eat even crap like this,” Romano said. The bag was quickly finished. “And you had better have some more for me.”

“You have to say please.”

“No fucking way. You're the host, so you have to feed me. Plus, I cooked yesterday.”

“Fair enough. I just really wanted to hear you say that. If I got you to cook for me yesterday, I'll get that out of you one day, too,” Prussia said and tossed him another bag of snacks.

Romano very much doubted that. However, he was too busy eating to bother engaging in another exchange of insults. He didn't even protest when Prussia shoved his hand into the bag to grab a handful.

“I guess I should check if Gilbird has food, too,” Prussia remarked. He wiped his hands on his trousers and proceeded to descend to the basement. Romano followed, half out of curiosity and half out of boredom.

The last time he had been in Prussia's room, he hadn't noticed the bird cage that stood on the shelf. The yellow chick that was usually sitting somewhere on Prussia was snoozing inside but immediately started tweeting and hopping around when they arrived.

“Yeah, I know you missed me,” Prussia cooed. He poked his finger into the cage and gave the bird a little nudge. Then he opened the door and let the chick hop on his palm where it nuzzled against his thumb before flying to rest on top of his head.

“Man, you're just so cute.”

It was a little unsettling to see Prussia so happy, so Romano turned his attention elsewhere in the room. He squinted his eyes as he tried to read the titles of some of the DVDs on the shelf, but it was a little too dark.

“Turn on the lights if you want to have a better look,” Prussia suggested.

“I don't really –”

Click, and suddenly there was light. The room was very much like when Romano had last seen it, spotless from top to bottom and with a few extra clothes neatly folded on the bed. The mere sight made his skin crawl.

“This is just sick,” he said. “Why can't you Germans be a little more natural? I feel like I'm in your brother's room!”

“I'm a soldier. Deal with it.”

“Yeah, right.” Really, a soldier who hadn't been to war since...? Romano couldn't even be bothered to count.

He couldn't stand to look at such perfect order, so he kicked at a cardboard box by the bed to make it slide off to the side. A few slips of something fell to the floor.

“Hey, don't break my things!” Prussia exclaimed. He knelt down, put the items back inside before Romano could see what they were and shoved the box under his desk where Romano could no longer see it well.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Nothing important. Hey, now that we're here, how about I show you how to play something after all? Come on, it'll be fun.”

“No, thanks,” Romano said. He glanced at the box that was peeking from under the desk. If Prussia didn't want to show it off it probably contained something that would actually interest him. Maybe it had dirty secrets inside.

After he had shown his vulnerable side to Prussia the previous night, he might need some ammunition of his own in case Prussia ever broke his promise and told someone about it. Even if he didn't do it intentionally, he could do it when he was drunk.

“On second thought, we have nothing better to do,” he said. If he wanted to see what was inside the box, he needed to stay in the basement, as much as that disgusted him.

The game Prussia proceeded to show him didn't make much sense to Romano. In the beginning, he had to create a character, and then there was... something that involved fighting and collecting points. He couldn't really say he was paying attention after a while, so he just let Prussia play and talk.

“Would you like to try?” Prussia asked.

“No, no. I think it's more fun to watch other people play,” Romano said.

After what felt like an eternity to him, Prussia announced that he was going to the bathroom and that Romano had better make sure their character didn't die.

“Just do like I showed you,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Romano said, but as soon as Prussia had gone up the stairs, he abandoned their dark elf ranger or whatever the hell he was to his fate and took out the box under the desk.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he felt a little victorious thrill go down his spine when he realised that the box was full of photos. Surely they were all filled with evidence of... whatever Prussia was ashamed of. Maybe he'd pocket a photo or two and threaten to publish them if Prussia ever gave him any trouble.

The first photo he fished out was an old black and white picture. It featured a shirtless Prussia, but much to Romano's disappointment, he wasn't doing anything of interest. He was lying on the hood of a white Trabant and smiling at whoever had taken the picture.

The next photo showed Alexanderplatz, but Romano didn't recognise any of the people in it. The following photos were all black and white and portrayed various moments in East Germany. Prussia was alone in most of them, but there was one with Poland, many with Vietnam and several in which Prussia was drinking with Finland.

One picture that he spent a while looking at had Prussia dressed up in a suit and waving at the camera with a group of men. Romano was certain he should have known one of them; he was surely some important East German politican.

The next photo he picked up was even older and showed Prussia and Germany posing in uniforms. Once Romano realised what period the picture was from, he dropped it like it was on fire. It made him momentarily reconsider whether he wanted to continue his prying. Maybe he didn't want to see some of the things in the box.

Fuck it, they were just photos. He didn't have to be afraid of them. Nevertheless, Romano was very relieved when the next picture his hands reached was something else entirely. It was so old that it had been placed into a glass frame and was so faded and torn around the edges that the two people in it were almost unrecognisable.

Prussia was again wearing a military uniform, but this one was from a time when he had still been a real nation. He stood proud, and while his expression was deadly serious as was tradition for pictures from that time period, he somehow still managed to come off as cheeky. He was resting his hand on the shoulder of a little boy whose head barely reached his waist.

It was Germany, Romano realised with some surprise. At first glance, he had been sure it was... someone else, but that was stupid. Despite the picture's age, it was clear the boy had the same serious features as Germany.

Something about the photo gave Romano an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Looking at such old pictures was always a strange experience. As nations, their memories of their past, no matter how distant, never truly faded. They were able to push them to the back of their mind to preserve their sanity, but they could recall them crystal clear if necessary.

And now, as Romano looked at Prussia's old uniform, he found himself thinking back to the Italian unification. He hadn't liked Prussia very much even back then, but his help against Austria had been appreciated.

Prussia had been so full of life. Romano remembered how his eyes had shone before battle and how he had barked orders in the midst of the bloodshed and chaos. Prussia's laughter had sounded over the screaming and bangs of muskets. Even after so many years, it made Romano shiver. He didn't like war. Even when he felt the cause was justified, he could never draw that kind of pleasure from it.

“Hey, who the hell told you it's okay to look at my stuff?”

Romano dropped the photo in surprise and looked up. Crap, busted.

“I... I just wanted to make sure I didn't break anything when I kicked it!” he said, but he was sure that his rapidly colouring face betrayed him even before the last words left his mouth.

“Yeah, right,” Prussia said, but his sour expression softened a little when he came over to see what Romano was looking at. He picked up the photo Romano had dropped and grinned at it. “Then again, who could resist something like this? Awe-struck, weren't you? Man, I'm hot in this one.”

“I was only staring at it because it's so blurry that I could barely recognise you,” Romano said.

“Well, it's an old photo.”

“Why are you keeping it in that box anyway? Shouldn't you take better care of something like that?” Romano asked.

Prussia hummed and turned the photo over in his hands before tossing it back into the box. “It's just old junk. I've been meaning to throw all of this out anyway,” he said.

“Why? Didn't you just say you liked that one?”

“This one, sure. I actually don't know why it's in this box at all. All the other pictures here are leftovers that I couldn't be bothered to put into my photo albums,” Prussia replied. He started picking up the photos on the floor and put them back into the box. He took a brief glance at each one, his expression growing more and more solemn with every photo.

“Why didn't these make it to the albums?” Romano asked.

“The albums are only for pictures that show how awesome I am. The first five or six are actually just paintings and sketches I commissioned back when taking photos was still so troublesome. My uniforms were so cool that they just had to be in colour. All the other albums are full of photos about my victories,” Prussia said.

Romano was about to ask what victories Prussia could possibly mean. He and his brother had lost both World Wars, and he didn't think there had ever been anything victorious about East Germany. He doubted Prussia could fill too many albums with pictures of the Wall coming down.

“I don't see what's wrong with this one,” he said and picked up a photo with Prussia and Vietnam posing with smiles on their faces.

“It's boring,” Prussia said and snatched the picture from him. “It's not the kind of stuff I want people to remember me by. I want everyone to look at my awesome photo albums volumes I-XXI and think that yeah, that Prussia sure was the best nation.”

Romano thought he would choke on the awkwardness that suddenly invaded the room. He waited for Prussia to continue and crack a joke, but he simply finished putting the photos back into the box  
and then sat staring at it in thought.

"Do you think you're going to die?" Romano asked when he couldn't take the silence any longer.

Prussia looked up, an alarmed expression in his eyes. Romano felt as if he had just caught Prussia doing something he wanted to keep a secret.

"Nah," Prussia said, flashing him a cocky smile. "I'm too awesome to die. If guys like Sealand who were never real countries in the first place can stick around, so can I. I'm going to be here forever, whether you guys like it or not."

Romano wasn't sure what to say. His stomach clenched as he looked at Prussia and the grin that was splitting his face. He looked so confident, so pleased with himself. And yet Romano was sure that if the most pleasure he got out of his existence was the knowledge that he could bug others, he couldn't really be all that happy.

"And that's enough?" he heard himself ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Just existing. Living in your brother's basement and never doing anything more ambitious than playing with your computer or maybe ruining Austria and Hungary's date. It's pathetic," Romano said.

He rummaged in the box and dug out the oldest photo. "You used to be so much prouder than that," he continued.

"Yeah, well, I'm taking a break from all that. Even I can't keep being awesome non-stop."

Romano said nothing as he looked at Prussia. The scratches he had been noticing in the other nation's gigantic ego were turning into cracks before his eyes. How come he hadn't seen it before? Prussia was pathetic, lonely and miserable. Everything he said was only meant to convince others, and maybe himself as well, of the opposite.

"That's complete bullshit," he said.

Prussia laughed. "Really? You think I'm awesome all the time? Well, then –"

"No way, asshole! I mean that you suck. History is history, and nobody cares about how awesome you used to be. All that matters is what you're right now, and it's crappy and unimpressive. The fact that you won't even admit that is the worst," Romano said.

"Hah," Prussia cackled. "You're just jealous like everybody else."

Romano rolled his eyes. "And people call me pathetic," he said. Sure, he didn't want to talk about his problems with anyone, but at least he knew he had some. Prussia seemed to be so deep in his self-delusions that Romano wasn't sure he could get through to him even with a bulldozer.

"What, so you're back to insulting me even though you're a guest at my home? Sheesh, not very social, are you?" Prussia asked.

"Hard to be when my host is such a loser!"

"Hey, here's an idea. Maybe you should work on the issues you talked about yesterday when you were bawling like a total wuss? Then you can come and tell me what to do!"

Romano clenched his teeth, seeing red. So much for the damn promise of never mentioning the previous night again!

"You suck! At least I talked to someone, even if it was just you. But whatever, it's not like I want to hear your sob story about how the world is moving on and forgetting you. I would otherwise recommend talking to your brother about it, but since you haven't done that, I guess you already know that he wouldn't really care, either," he said.

He regretted his words even before they had left his mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. The look that crossed Prussia's face was as if he had just stabbed him in the stomach, and this time he couldn't hide it under a confident smirk.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for the honesty, I guess," Prussia said. He pointed at the stairs. "The door is over there. Any time you want to leave is fine."

Romano wasn't used to anyone being hurt by his words. Sure, Veneziano cried sometimes, but he was fine again after half an hour and some good pasta. The rejected and resigned expression on Prussia's face was new to him, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Umm, listen, bastard. What I just said –" he started awkwardly, but Prussia waved his hand to cut him off.

"Stop. If you're going to start pitying me, don't bother. I don't want it. Actually, it's the last thing I could ever want, so just get out," he said. He wasn't looking at him as he spoke, and Romano suddenly felt like he had an idea what this was all about.

"I don't pity you. I just wanted to... to take back what I said because I always say stupid shit when I get pissed off. I thought you knew that already. Idiot."

Prussia snorted in what Romano assumed was amusement, but the feeling didn't reach his eyes. His smiles rarely did, he realised. But to be fair, his apology hadn't been the best, but he couldn't force anything else out of him.

"So, there's half a nation in the world that doesn't pity me. Awesome," Prussia muttered.

"Who the heck pities you? Spain sure doesn't, and I think Veneziano is cool with you, too. The others probably just think that you're an ass. The only one who pities you is you," Romano said.

"Hah! As if! How could anyone not pity me when they know what I used to be and see what I'm now? It's pretty obvious to anyone that I've sunk to the bottom and have no way back up. It's a surprise I'm still here," Prussia said.

Romano did his best to come up with something positive, but he realised he had no experience with comforting someone who was upset. He was all too used to someone else comforting him.

Thankfully, Prussia seemed content with a monologue.

"I really have no clue what I'm still doing here. I'm not of use to anyone. When the Wall came down, I asked West if there was anything I could do, and he said I should just concentrate on recovering and let him take care of everything. Imagine, treating me like a fucking baby!"

"He had a point, but you're fine now. Why don't you ask him again?"

Prussia laughed deep in his throat. "I'm not going to beg him for scraps. If he felt he needed me, he'd ask me."

Romano felt like he was gazing into a cracked mirror. Prussia's behaviour reminded him so much of his own, but it was a little different. Prussia didn't sulk and complain when he was unhappy. He laughed and smiled and did his best to convince everyone that he was fine. However, the core of their problems remained the same – they didn't want to address their issues and talk about them with the people who were important to them.

"And what I said earlier, that was a lie. About dying, I mean. Who knows? Maybe I'm still around because people haven't forgotten about me yet. But this is West's country. Maybe I'll croak when the last generation who remembers life in the East dies."

"Are you just going sit around and wait for it like a loser?" Romano asked. He couldn't help it, the self-pity in Prussia's voice made his skin crawl. This was the proud nation who had fought against Austria with them. Prussia was supposed to be above this.

"What else? You try living without land and people and see how much fun it is!"

"The Prussia I know wouldn't wait for history to keep going without him. He'd be making history whether he's a nation or not," Romano said harshly. On a whim, he added, "Besides, being alive when you're not a nation anymore is already pretty impressive. Why would anyone pity you?"

Prussia stared at him in surprise. "Yeah," he said, a grin slowly starting to split his face. "Yeah, you're right. I'm awesome. I'd like to see Austria fair this well if he lost everything! He'd probably pee his pants if he was told he was going to be dissolved for good."

Prussia's laughter was a little shaky as he shoved the box back under the desk, but he looked a lot better already. The mischief was back in his eyes.

"It's kind of strange arguing with you. I never meant to say any of that stuff, but I don't mind. It's not like a tough guy like me can't admit to having a few weak spots. Just don't tell West, okay?" he said.

"Wouldn't even dream of it," Romano replied. He didn't need to mention it, but he felt that the two of them had signed a silent agreement about how they'd keep quiet about this weekend's conversations forever.

"Good," Prussia said. He glanced at his computer's clock. "It's about two hours before West comes back home. I don't know about you, but I feel like getting wasted again."

"I don't," Romano said. It would be at least half a week before his stomach would feel ready for him to drink himself into oblivion again.

***

Romano ended up keeping company to Prussia as the latter poured beer down his throat. They were sitting in the living room and technically watching a movie, but neither of them was really paying attention to it. By the time they reached the middle point, Prussia was already so drunk that he could barely sit straight.

He's probably embarrassed by what he said, Romano thought as he watched Prussia in distaste.

"I'm going to throw up," Prussia announced and staggered up to his feet, but he fell back down on the couch right away.

"No way!" Romano said. Sure, it was Germany's carpet, but some things were just too disgusting to witness. 

He grabbed Prussia's arm and started dragging him upstairs to the bathroom. He opened the door, pushed Prussia inside, followed him, banged the door shut after them and... realised that he had picked the wrong door and they had ended up in the closet instead.

"Fuck!" Romano swore and banged his fists against the door. Just like Germany had said, it was difficult to open from the inside. No matter how hard he yanked at the doorknob, the door wouldn't budge. There was nothing else to do but wait for Germany to get back home.

Romano switched on the light and turned around to take a look at Prussia who was lying on the floor in a snoring heap. His mouth was open, and a pool of drool was already gathering by his side. Shaking his head in disgust, Romano attempted to reposition him so that if he threw up after all, he wouldn't choke on it. Then he sat down as far away from him as he could in the small confined space.

God, this was pathetic. He should have remembered which door was the right one. He couldn't believe he was stuck in a closet and had to wait for the bastard to come and save him. Could it even get more embarrassing?

Romano glanced at Prussia. He knew that being stuck in the closet together was one of the biggest clichés ever, and he was sure that if Prussia had been sober enough, he would have already made some lewd comment about it. Such as – no, stop. Romano buried his face into his arms as he felt his cheeks grow hot. He shouldn't ever entertain such thoughts about Prussia. He was so annoying, rude, insufferable, pathetic... and yet much better company than he had ever expected.

Thankfully, Romano was saved from these thoughts when he heard someone enter the house. He immediately jumped to his feet and started banging on the door.

"Hey, bastard! Let us out!"

Not soon after, the door was opened, and Romano found himself standing before a very confused Germany. And not just Germany; Veneziano was there as well.

"Romano? What are you doing here?" his brother asked.

"Just chilling with Prussia."

"In the closet?"

"Hey, it's none of your business, okay? We didn't lock ourselves here on purpose, if that's what you're thinking. It's not my fault this bastard can't fix this fucking door," Romano said. He pushed his way outside past Germany and stomped downstairs. The others could look after Prussia for all he cared.

Germany carried Prussia back to the living room and placed him on the couch where it was a little more comfortable. Once he was done, he turned towards Romano with a puzzled frown.

"But what are you doing here in the first place? I thought you didn't like Prussia," he said.

"I don't, but we figured we'd hang out when we realised what a dirty trick you two pulled on us."

Germany's face fell. "Ah, that," he said in discomfort. "I'm really sor –"

"Save your breath, potato bastard! We don't care! It's not like we need you two losers to report your every move to us! We can have fun by ourselves," Romano cut him off.

"See, Germany? I told you it was fine. There's no reason to feel guilty next time we lie to them!" Veneziano said happily.

"I'd rather not lie at all," Germany said.

"That reminds me, let's give them our presents!" At that, Veneziano ran back to the hall and quickly came back holding two plastic bags. "We thought we'd bring you something nice because we thought you'd be sad that we lied to you. It's good that you aren't, but you can still have the presents! I picked one for Prussia and Germany picked one for you."

"Great, then it's going to suck."

"Well, we can return it to the store if you don't want it."

"Just give it to me already, okay?"

Veneziano handed him the bag. When Romano took out the box inside it, he saw that Germany had got him a CD. He turned it around in his hands, but he didn't recognise the title or the man on the cover.

"I asked Italy what you like, and then I got you this CD by a famous German opera singer. He sings in Italian, too," Germany explained.

"Well, I guess it's going to give me a laugh when he completely mangles the language, if nothing else," Romano grumbled. It was kind of a nice gift, he had to admit.

"Look what I got for Prussia!" Veneziano said. He pulled out a huge stuffed bunny and placed it on Prussia's stomach. "This is going to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up."

"Poor him," Romano said. "By the way, you two could have picked up your phones at least once. There might have been an emergency or something."

"Sorry. Our phones got lost," Germany said.

"Oh, look! They were right here in the pocket of my jacket all the time!" Veneziano announced and triumphantly held up two cell phones.

"But... how..." Germany stammered. "You wanted to borrow my phone because you lost yours! Then you lost mine! How could you lose them both in the same place?"

"Eek, don't yell at me, please! It's not like I did it on purpose – Okay, I kind of did, but I had no choice! You were always looking at your phone, so I had to get rid of it. Didn't we have much more fun after I did that?" Veneziano whined, nearly in tears.

"Well..." Germany muttered.

Veneziano brightened all of a sudden. "Hey, Germany! Someone has left you a voice mail!"

Romano's eyes widened.

"Don't listen to it!"

"Why not?"

"Because... Because Prussia sent it when he got drunk! And he said some really, really embarrassing things, so you should just delete it right now. And don't mention it to him tomorrow. He was so drunk that he can't remember it anyway," Romano said.

"Oh, okay," Veneziano said and deleted the message without any further questions. "Wow, you're so nice, Romano. I didn't think you'd care so much about Prussia's feelings."

"Don't fucking mention it," Romano grumbled. As long as nobody ever heard his terrible France imitation, all was well.

"I'm a little hungry. Let's have something quick to eat," Veneziano suggested.

They all went into the kitchen where Veneziano immediately started working on something. He was humming happily as he cooked and asked Romano to help him with the vegetables. Since he was in a relatively good mood, Romano agreed.

Some clinking sounds behind him caught his attention. When Romano turned around, he saw that Germany had opened the cupboard and was reorganizing the cups and glasses inside it with a displeased frown on his face.

It was exactly as Prussia had predicted. That damn bastard and his obsession with order were just unbelievable.

As he watched the contents of the cupboard be re-organized with military precision, Romano couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth twitch. Maybe he was tired, maybe the weekend with just Prussia for company had rotted his brain, but this was suddenly absolutely hilarious.

"Romano, why are you laughing?" Veneziano asked when Romano had to stop cutting the vegetables for a moment.

"No reason."

"Okay," Veneziano agreed. "But you look kind of happy right now, so I hope that this nothing will happen again."


	11. Chapter 11

Prussia wrinkled his nose when he felt a fly land on it. It wasn't enough to get rid of the intruder, so he swatted at it with his hand, not bothering to open his eyes. It was so hot that even that felt too much of a task, and he was all too content with resting on the beach chair that stood in the shadows at Spain's porch.

Spain had invited him over out of the blue, claiming that it was too long since the three of them had actually spent some time together, not just gone out for drinks. It was true, but Prussia suspected the real reason was something else. He hadn't been much in touch with his two friends since he had been turned down at France's house, and Spain and France probably thought he was hurt and avoiding them. Or maybe it was just France. Spain was a little too oblivious to worry about such things.

He had been happy to accept the invitation, though only on the condition that Spain and France wouldn't go all kissy kissy when he was present. Just watching had never been his game, he had told them, and they had agreed with a good-hearted laugh. So far, even France had been able to keep his hands to himself, so Prussia supposed that they were really intent on making everything up to him.

However, he didn't really feel like there was anything to make up for. He didn't mind that Spain and France were together. Watching how they talked and looked at each other was enough to tell him how much in love they were, and while Prussia would have never said such mushy crap out loud, he was glad that his friends were happy.

Still, if Spain and France wanted to pamper him, why say no when he could just lie back and enjoy it?

Prussia opened his eyes and reached for his glass of wine on the table. He brought it to his lips and gagged at the thick taste, spilling some of the drink on his chest as he hurried to put the glass back. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Spain was observing him with half-closed eyes.

"Tastes like crap when it's warm," Prussia said and wiped his mouth.

"You shouldn't leave it in the sun if you don't like it," Spain said.

"Then I'd have to get up and walk to the kitchen every time I want a drink. It's a lose-lose situation," Prussia complained. 

He glanced at France, but the man was fast asleep and snoring softly with his hands crossed on his stomach. Hah, maybe his age was getting to him.

"I didn't know you were so lazy," Spain said.

"Not lazy. I just like it comfortable when I'm on holiday."

Spain yawned and closed his eyes as he leaned back on his chair. "Then I guess it's good we aren't going anywhere today. You can snooze out here to your heart's content."

"Yeah, sounds like my kind of fun," Prussia said. As far as he was concerned, it was always a prime time for some sleep, especially when it was this nice and warm. Gilbird definitely agreed with him, having found a comfortable spot in his hair.

He was falling into a happy slumber when he thought he heard Spain call out his name. He felt too drowsy to reply, and he figured Spain would give it up and talk to him later.

"Hey, Prussia!"

No such luck, apparently.

"Hmm?"

"It's coming a little late and out of nowhere, but I guess I should say I'm sorry."

Prussia opened his eyes and turned to his side to look at Spain, surprised by his serious tone.

"Why? Is there something wrong with the wine? Should I be hurrying to the bathroom?" he asked.

Spain chuckled. "No, I just haven't been thinking very much."

"And you're apologizing for that? Don't worry; I'm used to it."

"I know, and I should probably thank you for putting up with me despite that."

Prussia made a face. "Is this going to turn into some mushy bonding moment? If yes, let's just say that we're even because you put up with me being an asshole and leave it at that."

"No, I'm just getting sidetracked. I mean that I and France were asses to you. Sorry."

"Hey, that's ancient history. I didn't even remember that anymore. Besides, I and France had agreed we could do anyone we wanted, so it's not like you were going at it behind my back or anything," Prussia said.

"But we were because it wasn't just a random fling. We should have told you first that we wanted to be serious," Spain insisted.

"I said I'm okay with it. You didn't hurt my feelings, and you don't have to feel guilty. I'm fine. I've had so much action lately that I wouldn't even have time for France right now. It's great that you took him off my hands," Prussia said.

"Knowing you, even half of that isn't true," France muttered sleepily.

"At least the part where I said I don't give a shit is true, so can we stop talking crap? I want to go back to enjoying my vacation."

"Prickly as ever, I see," France said.

"That's the awesome me."

"You should get together with someone who has a really hard shell," Spain said with a chuckle.

"Oh, no, no. That wouldn't work at all," France said.

"Why not?"

"Because if he gets together with someone like that, he's just going to keep being an ass. He needs someone who's soft so that he has to watch what he says, but this rose should also have thorns of his or her own so that Prussia gets a taste of his own medicine every now and then," France explained in an all-knowing tone. 

"That's bullshit," Prussia said.

"You know I'm the expert on the matters of the heart, so you should just listen to me on this one."

"I've made it this far just fine, so I don't need your advice," Prussia said.

France shook his head. "You need to know how to make compromises when you're in a relationship, and, well... You aren't actually very good at that."

"Well, then it's great that I'm not planning to get into a relationship," Prussia said a little sourly. This wasn't fun anymore. It was one thing to have his friends apologize to him. It got awkward after a while, but at least it showed that they cared about him, and he could never have enough of that kind of attention. It was an entirely different matter when they started poking at his flaws.

He wondered if Spain and France were talking about this because they wanted to set him up with someone. It was a little uncomfortable when two people in a group of three started dating. Maybe they thought they could fix it by finding him someone.

He quickly went through a list of people they all knew well. It was painfully obvious that Denmark was interested in Norway. Netherlands would flip if he ever touched Belgium and probably the other way around. Adding England to the mix would just make everything even more awkward. Austria and Hungary had each other. As he reached the end of the list, he couldn't come up with a single nation his friends might consider a good match for him.

Damn, that was actually a little pathetic, he realised. Good thing he really wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone.

***

That night, Prussia was lying wide awake on his bed and staring at the shadowy ceiling. It was too hot for him to sleep; he felt sticky and uncomfortable in the sheets, even when he was only in his underwear. Even the generous amount of wine he had drunk after dinner wasn't helping him take his mind off the heat.

It had been hotter during the day, and he had still been able to sleep on the porch with his clothes on. He wondered what it was about a bed that made it so much more difficult.

He glanced to his side where Gilbird was fast asleep as a ball of fluff. It was tempting to poke at him to get some company in his misery, but he refrained from that. Gilbird was probably the only being in the world he would never tease. He was entirely too cute.

Prussia sighed and tried to organize the pillows better, hoping that it would help him get some sleep. He froze when he thought he heard a sound from outside his room. For a moment, he waited to hear if it would happen again. At first it seemed like he had just imagined it, but then he was sure he heard it once more.

Curious, he tiptoed to his door and pushed it open. He stuck his head into the hallway and listened. There it was again, and this time he knew exactly where it was coming from and what it was.

You dogs, he thought with a grin. France had a separate bedroom for this little vacation of theirs, but it was obvious he had snuck into Spain's room the first chance he got. And they were clearly getting quite busy.

Shaking his head, Prussia retreated into his room and closed the door. He went back to bed and closed his eyes, intent on falling asleep right away. He did his best not to listen to what was going on down the hall, but now that he knew what was taking place, it was as if his ears were straining to hear better on their own.

And Spain and France weren't exactly being quiet.

Fuck it, Prussia thought and buried his face into his pillow. He considered going to bang on their door to tell them to knock it off, but right then there was a moan that revealed that whatever Spain was doing, he was really good at it. It wouldn't be very nice to interrupt them now.

Well, it wasn't like he had been close to getting any sleep in the first place. He'd just grab his clothes and go for a stroll outside until the two were finished. If he stayed in his room and listened any longer, he just might end up jerking off to his friends going at it, and he didn't want to be quite that pathetic.

He tried to make no noise as he left his room and went downstairs. He almost stumbled at the stairs, but he managed to lean on the wall and make it down in one piece. Once outside, he stopped to stand at the porch and drew in a deep breath.

Spain's house was located outside a small village in the countryside. The scent of flowers and grass that Prussia couldn't identify was intoxicating, almost overbearing. He had always preferred the buzz of city life to quaint little places like this, but now he was glad of the smells that took his mind off other things.

He decided to walk to the village and back. His feet made scratching sounds on the path, and in the silence they appeared louder than they were. Prussia listened intently out of habit – being careful had saved him from a lot of pain throughout his history.

After a while, he came to stand by a low stone fence built to the side of the path. He rested his palms against the rough surface. It wasn't his country, but he could feel in his bones that the fence had been there for hundreds of years, maybe even since the times of the Roman Empire.

"Hah, out of the two of us, you're looking sturdier," he said as he hopped to sit on the rocks.

It was a little comforting to know that even if nations died, they always left something behind. Prussia knew he had it good. Even if most people outside Germany didn't speak of him anymore, he would always be present in history books, paintings, sculptures, architecture and music. His brother would look after his legacy. It was more than any nation could ask for, and Prussia knew he should have been grateful.

And he was, but that didn't quite thaw the fear he had felt ever since the reunification. He was tough; he had changed names more than once. But it had to end somewhere, and Prussia very much doubted he would ever be a real nation again. The others knew it as well, which was why he put so much effort into pretending that it didn't bother him. He didn't want their pity.

Strangely enough, he didn't regret letting Romano see some of his doubts. He hadn't really done anything to comfort him, but Prussia felt a little more light-hearted after their weekend together. Romano's word had made him feel less like a loser.

Prussia chuckled deep in his throat as he thought about it. Around a month ago, he hadn't spared a thought to Romano. He was sure the feeling was mutual. Even though their social circles overlapped a lot, they had not crossed paths too often. Now he had to grudgingly admit that Romano wasn't so bad and deserved more respect than he had ever thought.

And hanging out with him was fun. In Spain and France's company he sometimes felt compelled to be the Prussia of the past even though he had embraced the modern world and loved it in every corner of his soul. When he was with Romano, he could act and talk more freely. It landed him some insults, but that didn't bother him. Throwing back some of his own was always fun.

Prussia realised he couldn't bring himself to feel at all sorry about how things hadn't worked out between Spain and Romano. Spain was happy with France. If what Romano had said about his issues was true, he'd be better off dealing with everything alone for a while. Maybe he'd be a bit less of a pain in the ass once he got everything processed.

The fuck am I doing out here, thinking about Spain and Romano, Prussia wondered. Spain's crappy wine was rotting his brain and turning him into a really uncool and boring guy. He could have spent his time out here fantasizing about Belgium or Hungary – or both! -- but instead he wondered about some guy who was completely irrelevant to him.

Prussia jumped back to the ground and brushed sand off his trousers. Time to return inside. He knew how long France usually lasted, and by now the two love birds should be done. Maybe now he could get some of the sleep he deserved.

***

The next morning, Prussia did something he didn't usually do except when he really wanted Germany to buy something for him or had broken something in the house – he woke up before anyone else and started making breakfast. He couldn't do anything fancy like France, but he supposed coffee, bread and some fruit would do the trick.

He was already almost finished with his mug of coffee when France entered the kitchen, fresh from the shower, smelling of cologne and his hair neat and perfect. In comparison, Prussia looked like a troll.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd still be in bed," France said. He came over to put a hand on Prussia's forehead. "Hmm, it doesn't feel like you're sick."

"Where's Spain?"

"Still in bed."

"Hah! Wore him out, did you?"

"Ah, so you heard?"

"Anyone would have heard it. You were making so much noise I had to go out and have a walk."

France rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn't look one bit embarrassed. If anything, he seemed to be proud of his accomplishment and kept smiling smugly as he poured himself some coffee.

That smile died the instant he brought the cup to his lips.

"What is this poison?" he asked and went to pour his coffee into the sink.

"Coffee," Prussia said and took a loud, rebellious slurp out of his mug.

"My stomach and taste buds are much too sophisticated and sensitive for this dreck. I don't even know how you managed to brew that. Spain's coffee beans are of much too high a quality to result in a disaster of this magnitude," France said.

Prussia nodded towards one of the cupboards. "I used the instant coffee I found there."

"Sacrilege," France muttered with a shake of his head.

"By the way, why is the kitchen so full of stuff? It's like Spain is preparing to feed the whole world," Prussia said.

"Oh, that," France said as he popped an orange slice into his mouth. "He's is going to invite all the nations with Mediterranean coastline to his house next week. Didn't you hear?"

"Right, right. Of course I knew that. I just forgot," Prussia said. It looked like he was out of the loop again. It didn't really matter this time, though, since he wasn't invited. He wondered if he'd be invited even to a Germanic party if anyone else but Germany was throwing it. Probably not if that spectacled ass was the host.

He finished his coffee and spread a thick layer of Nutella on his bread, frowning at France's comments about how he ate like a child.

"Blame Spain. He bought this," Prussia said.

"I bought what?" Spain asked as he joined them in the kitchen.

"That disgusting muck people like to eat on their bread," France replied.

"Hey, I like it," Spain said and started making himself a chocolate sandwich. “And you're the one who has a pain au chocolat for breakfast every chance you get, so shut up.” 

"That's completely different from chocolate on a slice of toast! I wish you'd at least use quality chocolate if you have to do it. Chocolate must be bought in a store specializing in it, not in a super market where everything is mass-produced!"

"Need some more cheese with that quality French whine of yours?" Prussia asked.

"Honestly, that stopped being funny in the War of Austrian Succession," France said.

"Hey, where did you find that mug?" Spain asked all of a sudden when Prussia got up to get more coffee.

"This?" Prussia asked and lifted the thing. "It was right at the back of that cupboard. Real men drink their coffee from big mugs and not little cups like some people."

France snorted and rolled his eyes.

"It's kind of cute. I like the tomato," Prussia said and turned the mug over in his hands. It was all white except for a huge, red tomato that looked like it had just woken up and badly needed some caffeine. 

"Yeah, it's Romano's. I got it for him a few years back," Spain said.

"Oh," Prussia said. Now that he thought about it, the tomato almost looked like Romano. "What's it still doing here? Hasn't he cleared out his stuff?"

Spain shrugged. "We figured he could leave some of it in case he wants to drop by. We're still really good friends."

"In other words, you suggested he should leave a few things, and then he snarled that he would never want to visit you, ever, but ended up 'forgetting' some things after all," France said with a good-natured chuckle.

"That's our Romano," Spain admitted happily.

"And you just put up with that?" Prussia asked.

"Well, of course. It's really difficult for Romano to show affection, but he means well," Spain replied.

"It's probably because everyone was always comparing him with his much more agreeable brother, and then those who did express interest in him mostly did it because of Rome's inheritance," France said, rubbing his chin. "Why, I went after him several times myself. His lands were quite desirable back then."

"So, it's not really Romano's fault that he's like that," Spain concluded.

"That's crap," Prussia said. "Don't you think he's just going to continue being miserable if you enable his shitty behaviour like that? Isn't that why he broke up with you in the first place?"

"And how do you know that?" Spain asked in confusion.

"Uh..." Shit, this was dangerous territory. "He kind of told me."

"He told you," Spain repeated.

"Yeah."

"You," France emphasized.

"What torture did you use to get a single word out of him?" Spain asked. His tone had stopped being happy, and that serious look in his eyes suddenly made Prussia think back to the times when Spain had controlled a vast empire.

He raised his palms in what he hoped what a peaceful gesture. "Hey, I didn't do anything to him! He told me on his own!" Well, at least he hadn't got physical with him, but he wasn't about to repeat the harsh truths he had told Romano for as long as Spain had that careful look in his eyes.

"What exactly did he tell you?" Spain asked.

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

"And you intend to keep this promise?" France asked, sounding so surprised that he probably couldn't decide which was a greater miracle, Romano opening up or Prussia honouring someone's wishes.

Prussia shifted uncomfortably on his seat, suddenly reluctant to meet his friends' eyes. "Yeah, I kind of told him something, too, so I had better keep my mouth shut or it won't end well for me," he said.

“You told him something you haven't even told us,” Spain stated.

"This is ridiculous. When did you two even have the chance to meet and have this heart to heart talk?" France asked.

"What is this, a cross examination? West and Italy were off on some lame romantic holiday all weekend, so I and Romano decided to hang out because we had nothing better to do. That's all," Prussia said in exasperation. Then he wished he hadn't because the looks on his friends' faces made him wish the ground would swallow him.

France was smiling again, but this time there was a knowing gleam in his eyes. Spain, on the other hand, looked so serious that for a moment Prussia wondered if it was still him. 

"I know what you're thinking, and it's all wrong," he said.

"Is it?" France asked. "I can imagine it perfectly. The both of you all alone and ignored by your brothers, finding solace and comfort in each other's embrace and maybe even–"

"Okay, no. I'm way too awesome for pity sex," Prussia said.

"And if you ever used Romano that way, I might have to kill you," Spain added. He turned to shoot a glare at France. "And you as well if you keep giving him ideas like that."

"You can keep your axe in the storage room. I'm not going after Romano," Prussia said. He realised that until this conversation, the thought of having sex with Romano hadn't even crossed his mind. He was fun to hang out with, but Prussia couldn't imagine turning it into his usual short-lived sexual relationships.

"I didn't say you can't go after him. I'm not going to be a crazy ex. I just don't want him to be hurt, so you had better be careful with him," Spain. 

"It would never work. Romano isn't like Denmark or Serbia," Prussia pointed out.

"You aren't half as bad as you make yourself out to be either," France said.

Prussia knew that France and Spain were the last people on Earth to believe his exaggerated stories about his sexual adventures. The two of them usually had the tact to just smile and go along with whatever he said, so Prussia didn't like the tone behind France's comment. If they continued with this topic, they might even touch upon why he was always showing off so much in the first place.

"Man, I almost wish you two would just break up. You've turned into such sissies ever since you got together. If you're so desperate to find someone for Romano, try Belgium," he grumbled.

"Oh, no, that wouldn't work," France said with a laugh. "Belgium has her eyes set on someone else."

"Really? Who?" Prussia asked, more than happy to direct the conversation to safer waters.

***

Romano gave a gentle poke to the tomato he was inspecting. It felt just right, not too hard and not too mushy. He nodded in approval and turned to look at his tomato field with pride. It wasn't that large as it was difficult and expensive to own and maintain a spot for it in Rome, but he couldn't imagine living without farming. Every house he owned had a garden or small fields around it.

"How are they?" Veneziano asked.

"Too good to be wasted at Spain's stupid dinner."

"Aww, don't say that. Spain will be so happy when you bring him some of these."

"Like I care," Romano replied, but he couldn't be bothered to put too much effort into his grumbling. Both he and Veneziano knew that he'd pick the best tomatoes for the dinner and that he wanted them to be praised.

"I was thinking I'd bring some nice cheese. Maybe that lovely butter cheese from South Tyrol. France says he likes that," Veneziano said.

"Then you shouldn't bring it."

"Don't be so negative or you won't have any fun!"

Romano only snorted, but he knew he had to try to tolerate certain people if he wanted to enjoy himself. It irritated him to no end, but France had to be the most important person in Spain's life now. He knew it was selfish to feel jealous, but he couldn't help it.

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something," Veneziano said.

"What?"

"Will you promise to let me speak first before you start screaming and yelling and insulting me?"

"If you actually have to start like that, no. You're going to ask something terrible."

"I wanted to invite Germany over in about two month's time –"

"So, go ahead. The hell are you asking my permission for? You never cared about my opinion before."

"– and I was wondering if we could stay at your place in Rome."

Romano stared at his brother's hopeful, smiling face and tried to process what he had just said. He must have heard him wrong. He must have. There was no way even Veneziano was stupid enough to ask him to let the bastard into his house.

But the smile on his brother's face never wavered, so Romano was forced to admit that his brother really had asked that question and that he wasn't joking.

"What the fuck? Why do you want to bring him here? Why can't you stay in Milan or Venice like you always do?" he asked.

"Please don't get angry! I have a reason! I have several! Please, please listen!" Veneziano wailed and grabbed Romano's arm so that he wouldn't have the chance to stomp away in anger.

"I don't care what reasons you have. My home is the one place where I'm safe from him, so he's not coming. Ever."

"Romano, please! Otherwise we have to go into a hotel, and that's just no fun. Hotels are so impersonal, and I can't cook there, and you know that Germans have a bad reputation in hotels because they take pictures of all the imperfections they find and demand their money back! Don't make me go into a hotel with Germany!"

"Ugh, stop that! You're giving me a headache!" Romano snapped and yanked his arm free.

"Then you'll listen to my reasons?"

"...fine, but I'm still not letting Germany into my house."

Veneziano brightened at once. "My first reason is that I want to surprise him. He's actually a huge fan of Grandpa Rome, especially a few decades ago when he really looked up to him and wanted to build an empire just like his, but even today. He's been to Rome a few times but never on just holiday with me, so I thought I'd invite him and show him around."

"That reason isn't good enough. You don't need to be in Rome to look at Grandpa's stuff. You can go anywhere," Romano said.

"Yes, but Rome is much better! Grandpa left all the best things to you. Please share them with me this one time!"

Damn, Romano hated it when Veneziano chose his words so that it felt like he had struck a wedge under his heart. He still hadn't discovered if his brother was clever enough to do it in purpose or if he just blabbered so much that he sometimes hit the jackpot by accident.

He crossed his arms on his chest and turned to look away. "You know you can always do whatever you want with my things –"

"Yay! Thank you!"

"– but that doesn't extend to the bastard! Do you think it's going to be fun to watch you two waltz around my city like a love-struck couple, having only that damn Prussia for company?"

Veneziano blinked in confusion, but his smile returned quickly. "Oh, so you want to invite Prussia, too?"

"What? No, I – Of course he – I mean..." Romano stuttered, feeling his face grow dangerously hot. "Doesn't your invitation automatically include him? He's the bastard's brother."

"I wasn't going to invite him because I didn't want to ask too much of you, but if you want him to come, then it's perfect! The four of us could have so much fun together!"

"I didn't say I want to invite him!" Romano snapped.

"Then you don't want him to come?"

"Of course not. He's annoying."

"Ah, okay," Veneziano said in disappointment. "Then I'll just tell Germany that Prussia has to stay home and look after the dogs again."

Romano thought about the previous time he had seen Prussia and how obviously bitter he had been about how the world was moving on without him. He felt a surge of anger and frustration, but not at the world or even just Germany. No, he suddenly wanted to give Prussia a good smack. If he spent less time wasting his life in his brother's basement and pretending that he was happy about it, maybe he'd have time to actually do something fulfilling.

"No, you can invite him," he said. He'd show that idiot that it was possible to be happy even when you were no longer a nation. He wasn't sure why he wanted to do that, but the idea of Prussia drowning himself in beer and feeling lonely while his bastard of a brother was having fun at Romano's house rubbed him the wrong way.

"Really?" Veneziano asked in surprise. "So, that means I can actually invite Germany, too!"

"Wait, I never said – Ack!"

Romano could never finish what he had been about to say because Veneziano caught him in a hug that nearly sent the two of them stumbling to the ground. They barely avoided this and saved Romano's prized tomatoes from being squished.

"Too late to say no now! Thank you!" Veneziano cooed.

"Get off me!" Romano snapped. As he shoved his brother off him, a thought crossed his mind. "And why are you waiting until two months to invite him?"

"I just want to make sure he actually comes. Germany has so much work all the time. I don't think he'd come right now because we just spent a weekend together. Spain's dinner is coming up, too. I can't spend all my time having fun either because I have work to do as well," Veneziano replied. He paused and let out a thoughtful hum. "And so do you."

"You can lead the country for all I care. Everyone calls you Italy anyway," Romano said.

"Maybe they wouldn't if you did a little more work?" Veneziano suggested. "And I could use the help sometimes.”

"You just tricked me into letting those two assholes into my house. You have no right to demand anything from me for at least a decade!"


	12. Chapter 12

They were only twenty minutes into the world meeting, and everything had already turned into the usual chaos. America was in the middle of loudly explaining his new plan to save the world in case all the ice in the Antarctica melted and the water level rose too high. England was yelling just as loudly and trying to make the point that it was more important to prevent global warming when it was still possible instead of wasting time and money on taking care of the consequences. France was insulting them both. Japan showed his mastery at not really agreeing or disagreeing with anyone. Poor Latvia, who was hosting the meeting, looked like he would start crying any minute.

It all might have been interesting if Romano hadn't seen the whole thing countless times before, about this very subject, even. He predicted that it would take some five or ten more minutes before Germany would grow tired of everyone's bullshit and try to bring some order among them. It might work for a while, but in the end they'd leave the meeting without having accomplished anything.

Prussia would probably want to solve this with violence, Romano mused as he leaned his chin on his hand and watched China who was sitting opposite him and preparing for his turn to speak. In the previous meeting, several nations had accused him of polluting too much with his growing industry and increasing number of cars, so China no doubt wanted to defend himself.

The longer and stupider the arguments became, the more Romano wished that someone would put a stop to it and release him from this torment. Germany hadn't done it yet because Denmark of all people had chimed in with a few constructive ideas that had directed the mockery of a discussion back towards the actual topic for a while. Romano wasn't entirely sure what was going on right now because he had stopped listening after America had tried to argue that using a huge sponge to suck in the extra water could actually work.

"Finally," Romano grumbled when America announced that it was time for a break. It was an hour early, and leading the meeting was actually Latvia's responsibility, but America was hungry, so he didn't listen when the others tried to point this out.

"I don't mind that America steals my job and acts like an ass all the time," Latvia said timidly.

"Ugh, will you ever learn?" Estonia groaned by his side.

Romano for one was grateful to have a short break from the chaos the others had created. He decided to go to the canteen to grab something quick to eat before everyone else got there and everything edible was sold out.

He chose a sandwich with three kinds of cheese and sat down to munch on it while observing the entrance to see who else was coming. Eating alone wasn't fun, so he hoped that Veneziano, Spain or maybe Portugal would come and join him.

His brother did arrive in no time, but he was dragging Germany along with him, so that soured Romano's mood somewhat. What was even worse was that Veneziano and Germany chose a table different from his and didn't even look in his direction.

They must have noticed me, but they're just ignoring me on purpose, he thought angrily as he bit into his sandwich. Well, fuck them. It wasn't like he wanted to have his appetite ruined by having to watch Germany eat a potato salad or some other crap like that.

Even though Romano totally didn't give a shit about what his brother and the bastard were doing, he kept glaring at them from his table. Veneziano was laughing and trying to feed Germany some of his cake. Germany resisted at first, but in the end he gave in and opened his mouth to allow Veneziano to shove the spoon in.

God, that's embarrassing, Romano thought. If only Prussia were here to see how pathetic his little brother was.

Suddenly, Romano got an idea. He fished his phone from his pocket and waited until Veneziano was about to feed more cake to Germany. At that exact moment, Romano took a photo of the two of them. He grinned in dark satisfaction as he saw how good it was. It even captured the uncomfortable blush on Germany's cheeks.

A few days ago, Romano had found Prussia's number in his phone's memory and had saved it to his contact list. He had figured he might need it one day, and now was definitely a moment like that. He promptly sent the embarrassing photo to Prussia and went back to eating his sandwich, feeling considerably better.

The meeting continued much in the same spirits as it had started. Nothing intelligent was said by anyone in the first twenty minutes, so Germany finally snapped and declared that he was in charge now. From there on, everyone had to take turns speaking, but it didn't help much since they were still talking shit, just not at the same time anymore.

Romano felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, hiding it under the table, and saw that Prussia had replied to his message.

_Lol wow west always_  
sez these meetings r  
importnt but i c  
whats realy going  
on XD 

Romano glanced at the others around the table. Nobody was looking at him. Since he wasn't interested in the stupid discussion and had nothing better to do, he figured he'd send Prussia a quick reply and say that the photo was nothing compared to some other things at the meeting.

He didn't need to wait long for a reply.

_Sounds liek u gaiz_  
need me 2 get thingz  
movin i cud clear  
evrything up in a minit 

Romano was in the middle of writing a reply when he got another message.

_Oh an tnx 4t  
bmail material >:D_

He smirked at that, glad that the photo would result in some squirming for Germany when he got home. That's what he deserved for being so embarrassing in public and stealing all of Veneziano's attention.

He and Prussia exchanged a few more messages, mostly insulting Germany and lamenting the fact that Prussia couldn't be there to take care of the stupid meeting that wasn't going anywhere.

Since he wasn't following the meeting, he actually jumped when Germany slammed his hand against the table.

"America! Your country is one of the strongest and most influential ones in the world! You could make the difference here, so please at least try to listen when others are making suggestions!" he yelled.

"Well, why should I listen when nobody else is? Look at Russia; he's been paying more attention to Lithuania than our topic since the beginning. Oh, and Romano has been texting for the past half an hour!" America argued.

The fact that Russia was interested in Lithuania was nothing new, so everyone ignored that and turned to look at Romano. He still had his phone in hand and no matter how much he wanted to put it away, he couldn't. Then everyone would see it, and that would just prove him guilty.

"No, I'm not! I'm just checking the time! A lot!" he snapped.

"Yeah, right. I've been watching you, like, all this time. You're so texting with someone," Poland, who was sitting right to his left, said.

Germany let his stare move around the room. "If Romano is texting with someone, it means that someone else here isn't paying attention either. Who is it?" he asked.

Nobody said anything.

"It's not like every nation in the world is here. It could be anyone of those not present. Like Liechtenstein," Denmark said.

"Are you texting with her?" Switzerland growled.

"No! I'm not!" Romano yelled, resisting the urge to dive under the table when Switzerland began to caress the holster of the gun he had somehow smuggled into the meeting.

"Who cares who it is? Let's just continue," England said.

"I think this is more interesting," Russia said, smiling.

"How would you know when you haven't been listening to a word anyone has said?" America asked.

"Not true. I'm always listening. Especially when you think I'm not."

Germany rubbed his temples. "Let's just get back on topic. Now, as Sweden was saying –"

"Not yet! I want to know who he's texting with!" Denmark said.

Before Romano realised what he was planning, Denmark had snatched the phone from his hand and was reading the latest message.

"Hey, it's Prussia!" Denmark announced with a grin.

"Give that back!" Romano snapped, but Denmark had already thrown the phone to Norway who caught it, spent a moment reading the message without showing any interest in it and passed the phone to England.

"Germany, your brother's spelling is appalling," England commented.

"Let me see," America said and went to read over England's shoulder.

"Hey, that's my phone, assholes! Give it back!"

Romano marched up to America and England and grabbed his phone from them, but the two were already involved in a new argument and didn't even notice him.

"Get with the times, England! This is how normal people write their texts. You're the only one stuffy enough to care about spelling and punctuation!" America said.

"Just because we have switched to writing in a different medium doesn't mean we can forget about correct syntax and the basic principles of language! Computers and phones are making people forget how to spell! Just look at yourself!" England argued.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with my spelling!"

"Yes, there is! Colour is spelled with a 'u', you sod!"

"That has nothing to do with what we were just talking about. Dude, you're just mad I'm doing things my way!"

"If you two are going to fight, could you at least remain on topic while at it?" Germany asked, but neither America nor England seemed to even register that someone was talking to them.

Romano snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, glad for the diversion that had made everyone forget about him. Or almost everyone, as he realised as soon as he returned to his seat.

"What were you and Prussia talking about?" Veneziano, sitting to his left, whispered. And when he whispered, it was loud enough for half the room to hear.

"Nothing!"

"Aww, don't yell at me! I was just asking!"

"It's none of your damn business. And it's nothing important anyway."

"If it's not important, why can't you tell me?"

"And if it's nothing, why are you blushing such a ghastly shade of red? It so doesn't go with that tie."

"You stay out of this!" Romano snapped at Poland who was leaning his head on his hand and smirking at him with an all-knowing look in his eyes.

Germany managed to make America and England end their fight about the English language before Australia, South Africa and... someone else got involved to point out that American and British English weren't the only acceptable forms of the language. The meeting continued more or less normally after that.

Romano got one more message during the meeting, but he didn't dare look at it before they called it a day and prepared to return to their hotels. He flipped his phone open and read the text.

_Hey y so quiet  
sometin up_

Just your brother being a controlling ass, Romano thought and wrote just that.

Right as he hit the send button, he felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Veneziano, I already told you – aargh!"

It was Germany! And he wasn't looking very happy. Romano quickly shoved his phone into his pocket, hoping that Germany hadn't seen what he had just said to Prussia.

"Wh-what the hell do you want?" he asked.

"You shouldn't send messages to Prussia in the middle of a meeting," Germany said.

"That's none of your business!"

Germany sighed. "Fine. Then I'll just tell Prussia not to send you messages when there's a meeting. It's really important that we all concen –"

"That's really none of your fucking business either," Romano said before his survival instincts could stop him.

"Actually –"

"Prussia isn't a nation anymore, so he can do whatever the hell he pleases, right? Why should he give a shit about these stupid meetings when half of the actual nations here don't? And I can send him as many messages I want, and there isn't a thing you can do to stop me, krautbreath!"

Germany stared at him for a while with the slightly confused expression that took over his features every time Romano was ranting at him. It always looked like he hadn't heard half the things he said and was desperately trying to decipher the meaning with what little he had.

"But why would you want to send him messages in the first place?" he finally asked.

"Well, because –" Romano started, still angry and ready to rant, but he realised that he didn't actually have a reason. "I, uh... Shut up! I don't have to tell you! That's one more thing that's none of your business!"

"Is Romano being difficult again?" 

Romano and Germany turned to look when they heard Veneziano's voice and saw him approaching them with an airy smile on his face.

"Don't worry, Germany," he said. "Romano is just embarrassed that he was caught texting in front of everybody. He's not really upset at you."

"God, why can't anyone shut up about that? It's not like I'm the only one!" Romano snapped.

"True, you're just the only one who was caught," Veneziano said brightly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Look what France sent me this morning!"

Romano and Germany looked.

"That's fucking gross! Delete it!" Romano yelled.

***

Prussia enjoyed the clink the beer bottles made when he grabbed two out of the fridge. What a lovely sound, almost as great as taking the first gulp of the frosty goodness. He placed one bottle in front of Germany on the kitchen table.

"I can't drink now. I have a lot of work to do tonight," Germany said.

"You can't be serious. It's just one beer. And what is so important that you need to get it done right now?"

"I'd rather drink after I'm done with work. It tastes better then."

"Right, I've kind of forgotten," Prussia said and opened his bottle.

Germany said nothing, just kept reading the papers that he had brought to the kitchen. Prussia circled behind his back so that he could read over his shoulder.

"A plan to cut down on automobile exhaust gas in Germany by thirty percent in twenty years? Come on, West! You can't seriously prefer this over having a beer with me!"

"This is very important. We didn't achieve anything in the meeting, so next time, I'm going to present this concrete proposal to the others and be a good example," Germany said. He sighed. "Maybe it's futile, but I hope it will inspire the others to pay a little more attention."

"Bring a gun next time. Maybe then they'll pay attention."

"Many of the problems we face today can't be dealt with violence."

"I don't see why not. For example," Prussia said and grabbed one of Germany's papers that talked about environmentally friendly cars, "we could throw everyone who doesn't buy one of these into prison for five years."

"Not everyone can afford one of them."

"The government could give them a loan. And we could make all the new cars ourselves. Think about the boost to our industry!"

"There are countless underlying problems with that idea. Besides, you can't decide something like that and force the people into it. The world doesn't work like that anymore," Germany said.

"Yeah, that's why it sucks so much these days. Sometimes I miss the days when the government could just come up with something and everyone had to go along with it or else."

Germany gave him a side-eyed look and gathered his papers. "I'll be in my room."

"I'll put your beer back in the fridge so that you can drink it later."

Prussia remained alone in the kitchen, drinking his beer and wondering what to do with his evening. Since Germany was staying home for once and not going anywhere with Italy, he had been thinking they could just hang out and do something cool. Like drink beer and watch recordings of their favourite football matches or something. Hell, even old Eurovision would work if they drank enough first.

But no, Germany had to work. It was nothing new, so Prussia wasn't going to sulk about that. He'd just have fun by himself. He had been doing it so much that he had become an absolute master at it.

He grabbed another beer and went down to the basement to see if anyone from his guild was online. The box of photos Romano had found was in the middle of the floor, and he kicked it under the bed on his way. He had no idea why, but he had been looking at some of the photos, especially the ones from East Germany, quite a lot recently.

Prussia hadn't missed the look on his brother's face when he had made his comment about the government. He knew that Germany liked to think Prussia had been a poor victim of communism, unable to do anything but watch and suffer with his people as Russia held his country in an iron fist. 

It hadn't been a fun time, that much was for certain, but Prussia was far from innocent. East Germany had been his country; of course he had worked with the government and done things he wasn't proud of today. Germany of all nations should have understood what that was like, so Prussia had no idea why he had such stick up his ass and refused to face the truth.

Prussia checked his phone for messages or calls. None. No wonder. Most of his friends were at the Mediterranean dinner at Spain's house.

Well, that didn't matter. He had beer and online games and a stuffy workaholic of a brother.

***

Romano couldn't remember if he had ever seen so many people at Spain's house. Spain hadn't been kidding when he had said he'd invite everyone with Mediterranean coastline or who was considered part of the gang, like Andorra and Portugal. Even nations Romano didn't usually socialise with, such as Tunisia and Montenegro, were there. Somehow, he had been under the impression that the invitations would be limited to Spain's usual circle of friends, so he was feeling a little self-conscious in the middle of so many half-strangers.

He was currently holding a drink in his hand and looking at an expressionist painting on the wall. Pretending to be captivated by art gave him a great excuse to stand by himself and not feel like an idiot because he wasn't striking up a conversation with anyone.

However, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the painting and decide whether it represented horses or transistor radios, he still couldn't tune out Veneziano's happy laughter from the other side of the room.

He had no idea how Veneziano did it, but somehow he was able to get along with everyone. Romano could barely get along with his friends. He took a sip of his drink and tried not to feel jealous.

"Do you like the painting?"

Romano gritted his teeth. Great, just what he needed.

"What do you want?" he asked and took a step to the side when France came to join him.

"You look so charmed by this painting that I just couldn't resist coming to take a look at it myself."

"Yeah, right."

Romano tried to keep staring at the painting, but France was like a magnet for eyes, and he couldn't help but glance at him every now and then. Romano hated that, and he hated France, and he especially hated that lazy smile that was plastered on his lips.

"What?" he finally snapped when he couldn't take it anymore. That pervert had something on his mind, and Romano was certain he wouldn't like it. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure there were still other nations in the room.

"Oh, nothing," France said.

"Stop lying to me, you snail-slurping pervert!"

France sighed. "Really, can't I just hang out with you without second thoughts?"

"No. You're always plotting something." And Romano didn't have to use much of his imagination to figure out what.

"As much as I like to promote the ideal of free love, I know how to keep my hands to myself now that I'm with Spain. I would especially not try anything with his ex," France said, but then he paused to think about his words.

"What?" Romano asked when the silence kept getting longer.

"I just realised that that didn't sound like me at all. My God, what's wrong with me?" France asked.

Spain chose that exact moment to practice his perfect – or, in Romano's opinion, really unfortunate – timing and came to join them.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked.

"Spain, there's something wrong," France said.

"What?"

France pointed at Romano. "Look! I'm standing here alone with this exquisite example of male beauty, and I don't want to slip my hand down his pants! I don't even want to accidentally touch his behind when I walk by!"

Spain put a hand on France's forehead. "You must be getting sick. Are you feeling okay?" he asked in worry.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm losing my sex drive. Maybe... maybe I'm going impotent! I am pretty old, after all."

Spain turned around. "Quick, touch my butt! See if it makes any difference."

"Mmm, that's much better," France said in relief as he placed both of his hands on Spain's buttocks.

"What the fuck do you two think you're doing?" Romano screeched. "Stop right now! Everyone will see!"

"They wouldn't have noticed anything if you hadn't started yelling," Spain pointed out. He turned around again to face France. "Is it just Romano who isn't turning you on?"

"I don't know. I didn't even realise it until now."

"What about Italy?" Spain asked.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm not that interested."

"Greece?"

"Nah."

"Portugal?"

"No, and she's off limits now anyway."

"What the hell, you idiots? So, France only wants to do you now. Isn't that supposed to be a good thing because he's your goddamn boyfriend?" Romano asked.

"Well, yes, but..." Spain said and ran his fingers through his hair. "I love France because of who he is, and if he's not –"

"A sick sexual predator," Romano suggested.

"— free with his love life, he's kind of not the France I know," Spain finished.

France looked miserable. "So, you don't love me anymore? Just name anyone here and I'll have sex with them if that's what you want."

"No, no, that's not what I –"

Romano couldn't bear to listen to this bullshit any longer, so he decided to change the subject. "What did you mean when you said Portugal is off limits?"

"Didn't you hear? She got together with Belgium after the last world meeting," Spain said.

"Spain, can we gossip later? I think we need to talk," France said. He grabbed Spain's arm and started dragging him away before Romano had the time to say a thing. Not that he would have said anything anyway; he was too surprised to control his thoughts, much less his mouth.

Portugal was with Belgium? How had that happened? Sure, the two of them were friends, but that didn't have to mean anything!

Now his bad mood tasted even sourer. Romano didn't know if he had actually wanted to try his luck with Portugal, but he had really looked forward to flirting with her tonight. She was nice and never made fun of him, so she would have been an ideal girlfriend.

Just what the hell am I doing here anyway, he wondered as he realised that his glass was empty. He didn't know most of the people present, and they didn't know him either. About half of them didn't even know Italy was represented by brothers – he had overheard more than one person exclaim in surprise when Veneziano had corrected them and pointed out that he didn't normally live in Rome.

He went to fill his glass and watched Greece and Turkey fight over something. He overheard the words "feta" and "genuine", but he couldn't be bothered to find out what the details were. However, what little he heard was enough to make him hungry, so he decided to have a snack from the table where everyone's home-made products had been gathered.

Romano was glad to see that over half of his tomatoes were already gone. He decided to be adventurous and try the _burek_ that Morocco had brought. It turned out to be really good, so filling his stomach made him feel a little better.

It wasn't like he was in love with Portugal or anything. He just liked her. His disappointment was more due to the fact that he was back in square one. Besides, Portugal and Belgium were a cute couple. It wouldn't take long before the thought of them together would stop stinging, he was sure.

Morocco was approaching the food table, and Romano was starting to feel so good that he decided to try to compliment the food – with a real compliment, too, not just a one disguised as an insult. Maybe it would get them talking so that they could learn to know each other a little better.

"Oh, wow, there are still some of these tomatoes left!" Morocco exclaimed and hurried to grab three from the bowl. He bit into one and started munching it happily.

Romano felt so proud of himself. Before the dinner had started, he had been afraid that nobody would want to eat his tomatoes since they weren't cooked. The idea of there being a full bowl left in the end had been so embarrassing and scary that he had almost tripped on purpose so that the tomatoes would be ruined and he'd have an excuse for not bringing them. But now he was glad; everyone clearly loved them.

"Hey," Morocco said as he finally noticed him.

Romano prepared himself for some much-deserved praise.

"Have you tried these tomatoes?"

"Yeah, actually I –" 

"Italy brought them. He also brought this really good cheese. Did you try it already?"

"Italy," Romano repeated.

"Yeah, he's over there. Nice guy, but a bit loud." Morocco paused here. "So, uh, sorry, but who were you again? Andorra?"

Romano put his plate down with such force that it probably cracked.

"Keep your fucking excuse of food!"

"Sorry, my mistake! San Marino, right?" Morocco called out after him, but Romano kept stomping away and never looked back.

Suddenly, it was very difficult to find a lonely corner. There were people everywhere, and Romano was sure they were all staring at his red face and angry frown. And yet nobody came to ask him what was wrong. Either they didn't care or didn't think he was important enough. Because apparently he wasn't goddamn Italy.

He marched upstairs, entered a room and slammed the door shut. It was only after he had sat down on the bed that he realised where he was. This was the room where he had always slept when visiting Spain – when he hadn't been sleeping in Spain's room, that was.

The room looked barer now since he had taken most of his things back to Rome, but he spotted a few things he had left behind. There was a watch on the nightstand, probably forgotten because he didn't like wearing one. A few of the books in the now nearly empty shelf were his. When he walked to the closet and opened it, he saw that it was empty save for three or four of his shirts.

Romano slammed the closet door shut and returned to the bed. He fell on his back on it and stared at the ceiling, feeling his heart shrink. He doubted anyone downstairs would even notice that he had slipped away. He got some satisfaction from that thought. When it was time to go home, Veneziano would ask him if he had had a great time, and then he could tell him he had spent half of the evening alone in his old room. That would make him feel guilty for sure.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the room. More than once, he had wondered if it had been a stupid decision to break up with Spain. He didn't love him anymore, but with Spain he would have been safe and not alone. Spain had always been there to comfort him when he needed it, even when he didn't want it and tried to push him away.

Romano doubted he would ever again find anyone who would have that much patience with him. Nobody else would take his shit without complaint. He had thought it would do him good to get out of that safety zone that could get so suffocating, but there were times when he just felt too lonely and would have much rather melted into Spain's arms and closed his eyes from all of his problems.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened before Romano could tell the person to get lost.

"Oh, here you are! I was wondering what happened to you," Veneziano said as he stepped in.

"Go away."

"What's wrong? Are you feeling sick? Did you eat something bad?"

"No, I just want to be alone." Goddammit, now Veneziano had come to ruin his perfect self-pity party.

Veneziano climbed on the bed and came to lie by his side. "Did someone say something nasty to you?"

"No, dammit! I'm just sick of all that stupid chatter and all those assholes!" Romano snapped. He swallowed the lump in his throat, glad that Veneziano couldn't see his face and how moist his eyes were getting.

Veneziano let out a long hum. "I'm a little tired, too. Let's have a nap here before we go back."

"I don't want to have a nap!" And he didn't want to go back.

"Then watch over me while I sleep, okay?"

"And why the hell should I do that?"

"Because you're my big brother, that's why."

"It's Spain's house! You don't need anyone to watch over you!"

Veneziano sighed and snuggled closer to him. Much to his disgust, Romano didn't try to slither away.

"Do I need a special reason to want to have my brother next to me?" Veneziano asked sleepily.

"You're so lame," Romano mumbled.

He fell silent and listened to Veneziano's steady breathing. His brother had to be the most annoying person in the whole world, always chatting, sticking his nose into where it didn't belong and saying so many stupid, embarrassing and sometimes hurtfully blunt things. And yet Romano knew that Veneziano was the better person out of the two of them. He was countless times worse, but Veneziano still loved him.

Romano wished he could have told his brother he felt the same. Maybe everything wouldn't be so goddamn complicated if he could just be honest with everyone. Maybe people would like him more and remember him if he were more like his brother.

He wondered if this was how Prussia felt and if that was the reason he couldn't shut up about himself. It was excruciating when others didn't remember who you were, and it was probably even worse when you no longer had a nation to represent.

"Hey, Veneziano."

"Hmm...?"

"What did the bastard say when you invited them to my place?"

"He was very grateful! Don't tell him I told you, but I think he's planning to get you some kind of present. He really appreciates it that you let him come," Veneziano said. He laughed. "I really had to spend a lot of time persuading him. He was sure it's all going to turn into a catastrophe, and I don't think he was very comfortable with the idea of staying at your place at first."

"Well, I sure don't feel comfortable letting him stay there," Romano muttered. For some reason it bothered him that Germany hadn't wanted to come at first. If the bastard was going to screw his brother, the least he could do was to at least pretend he was tolerating him, goddammit.

"Or his stupid brother," he added for good measure.

"Oh, no!"

"What the hell? Let go!" Romano snapped when Veneziano caught his arm and clung to him.

"I totally forgot! Romano, I'm such an idiot!"

"What did you forget?"

"Prussia! I was so happy to invite Germany that I forgot to tell him that Prussia can come, too! What if Germany has already told him about it and he's feeling left out?"

"Then call him and say you forgot, you idiot."

"But the damage has already been done! He'll think I'm inviting him out of pity, and he won't like that," Veneziano wailed. Then his face brightened. "I know! You invite him!"

"What difference does it make if I do it?"

Veneziano sat up on the bed and looked at him with an excited smile. "You've been getting along with Prussia lately, right? You were even texting in the meeting when you were supposed to be listening!"

"Anything is better than paying attention in a meeting!"

"Yeah, but you two are still becoming such great friends! If you invite him, we can pretend that it was meant to be like that from the start! Quick, call him!"

"No, I don't want to call him!"

"Aww, why not?"

"I just don't."

"Then send him a text. Or do you want him to feel like we don't like him?"

Romano crossed his arms on his chest. "But we don't like him."

"I do, and so do you," Veneziano said. He let go of Romano's arm and hopped off the bed. "I think I'll go back downstairs. You should come as well when you're done inviting Prussia. San Marino was looking for you."

"I don't want to talk to that asshole," Romano said.

Veneziano laughed as he skipped to door. "Come whenever you're ready!"

Romano muttered profanities under his breath and didn't stop even after Veneziano had left. He wasn't going to invite Prussia. No way. It was bad enough to have to deal with Germany, but having two bastards in his house would be too much.

Alright, that wasn't true. He'd much rather have both of them or even just Prussia rather than only Germany. The problem was simply that he didn't want to be the one to invite him. That would be awkward, as if he actually wanted him to come, which he did, but... Dammit, he just didn't want anyone to know that and get the wrong idea, especially not Prussia.

Romano sighed angrily and took out his phone. It was just because of how this stupid dinner had turned out, he knew, but he kind of felt like he and Prussia were kindred spirits right now. Prussia at least knew who he was. And Prussia liked him enough to have asked him to stay for the whole weekend when they had been stalking Veneziano and Germany.

Overtaken by a sudden burst of determination, Romano started writing a text.

***

Prussia took off his headphones and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at his bunny alarm clock – which he never used for its real purpose but still kept on his desk because it was cute – and saw that it was already nearing two in the morning. He wasn't about to go to bed yet, but he really needed a bathroom break before he could continue playing.

When he stepped out of the bathroom some moments later, he saw that there was still light pouring from under the door to Germany's room. It made him frown. Sure, his brother was a workaholic, but had he really spent all this time writing that stupid report?

Curious, Prussia knocked on the door. "West, you still up?"

There was no answer, so he pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him made him smirk.

Germany was sprawled on his desk, fast asleep in the middle of his work. His laptop was still on and displaying one of the boring screensavers that came with the operating system. The important papers were spread on the desk in a way that was uncharacteristic for his orderly brother.

"Let's see..." Prussia said and went to shake the mouse. Aww, it looked like Germany had fallen asleep before he had finished the report. Prussia chuckled as he saved the file and was about to turn off the laptop, but then he got an idea.

He'd finish this report. How difficult could it be? Sure, he hadn't been a nation in a while, but he had done a lot of paperwork as East Germany. Things couldn't have changed so much in just about two decades. He'd do this, and he'd do it really well. Maybe then his brother would give him some actual responsibility around here.

"Yeah, no more taking out the trash," Prussia muttered. He took the laptop and gathered the papers, careful to keep from waking up Germany. Once he had everything he needed, he made his way to the kitchen and got to work.

As he read through what Germany had already typed and compared it with the information in the papers, he realised that there wasn't that much work left. All he had to do was find the correct information, paraphrase it and come up with some convincing arguments. 

"I can so do this," he said. 

Then he spent a moment thinking about it. Maybe he had better make some coffee first. Just so that he wouldn't share his brother's fate.

***

It was nearly seven in the morning when Prussia was finally finished with the report. His eyes hurt, he could barely think straight, and his hands were shaking because he had poured too much black coffee down his throat, but he was pleased with himself. The report was brilliant, no doubt much better than what Germany could have ever written.

Now all he had to do was to take the laptop and the papers back to Germany's room without waking him up. His brother was an early bird, so he would no doubt get up any minute now. 

Luck was on Prussia's side. He made it to Germany's room and back without an incident and could sigh in relief. When Germany woke up, he would surely wonder how the report had ended up finished on its own and why it was so damn good. Then Prussia would reveal what he had done and bask in praise.

It was this thought that kept him awake. He was sitting in the kitchen and waiting for Germany to come downstairs. Any moment now. Man, he could hardly wait.

Then Germany finally came. Prussia had a hard time keeping an expectant smile away from his face when he saw that his brother was holding a printed version of the report.

"The strangest thing happened last night," Germany said, running his fingers through his messy hair.

"Yeah? What?"

"I just can't remember finishing this report." Germany browsed through the papers in his hands. "I must have had a total black-out. It's full of mistakes."

Prussia's jaw dropped in horror. "What?" he croaked. "But I – I mean you never make mistakes!"

All his hard work for nothing! And even worse, he had made mistakes. He! The awesome Prussia! It couldn't be. Prussia felt his heart sink in disappointment. Did he suck at this after all? Maybe it was just right that he wasn't a nation anymore if he wasn't cut out for the job.

"I think I'm going to get some more sleep. See you in the afternoon," he said. If he felt like crawling out of the basement even then, he mentally added.

“Hmm, as you wish,” Germany muttered. “Damn, I thought I had learnt to follow the latest spelling reform...”

Prussia popped his head back into the kitchen. “What? Spelling?”

“Yes. This report is otherwise perfect, but for some reason I typed it following the old spelling conventions,” Germany replied.

“The reforms sucks, and you know it.”

Germany lifted his eyes from the report and looked at Prussia. Then he looked at the report again. Prussia could almost see the clockwork in his mind work at full speed.

“Did you write this?” Germany finally asked.

“What if I did?”

“But... why? This is my work, and –”

“What's an awesome person like me to do when his kid brother is so exhausted he falls asleep in the middle of his work?” Prussia challenged, crossing his arms on his chest.

“I'm not angry. Just surprised. I didn't know you like doing paperwork.”

“Of course I don't, but a brother's gotta do what a brother's gotta do. But hey, if the report was good, you should let me do something else! I could totally represent this country with you!"

Germany glanced to his side. "Well..."

"Let me do the military budget, West!"

"Would there be money left for anything else after that?"

"Sure, there's always money for music and arts."

"I could use some help. There's this report on the development of the income tax in North Rhine-Westphalia during the past twenty years that –"

"You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid there's a lot of mundane work in a nation's life these days," Germany said.

"Yeah, on second thought, maybe I'm happy being an ex-nation for a while longer," Prussia grumbled. It had probably been a stupid idea to expect anything to come out of this anyway. He could do as much paperwork as he wanted, but it wouldn't make him a representation of anything.

Germany offered him a smile that somehow looked sympathetic and awkward at the same time. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's cool. At least I'm still here."

"Any time you want to do more paperwork, let me know. There's always something that needs to be done."

Prussia laughed. "I'm not that desperate. I don't need paperwork to feel awesome." As an afterthought, he added, "But if you have too much work and need help, go ahead and ask. If I'm not busy with anything, I'll do it."

"Of course. And thank you."

An awkward silence fell between them.

"So, with that settled, I guess I'll try to get some sleep, then," Prussia announced. He descended into the basement with the intention of burying himself under the covers on his couch, but he decided to check his phone before that.

One new message. And wow, it was from Romano. As he read it, a grin spread on his face, and he ran back into the kitchen.

"Hey, West! What's this about Italy inviting us to Rome with him? Why didn't you tell me?"

Germany shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, about that –"

"Romano just said I should bring him peanut flips as a present or he's not going to serve me any food. What's up with that?"

"Huh," was all Germany could say.

Prussia shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess I'll just stuff my luggage with some snacks. We shouldn't anger the host, you know. And man, West. How come you didn't tell me about this before? Were you trying to surprise me or what?"

"Something like that," Germany said. He stared at his mug of coffee for a moment. "I need to make a phone call. Just to be sure about something."

"Sure thing," Prussia said, not really even listening. Wow, he was invited to Romano's place! That was going to be a blast!


	13. Chapter 13

Yet another world meeting was about to start. Romano didn't expect anything interesting or productive from this one, so he simply walked to his seat by Veneziano's side and sat down. 

Everyone had got a copy of the program for the meeting, but Romano hadn't even glanced at it yet. His brother, on the other hand, was getting awfully excited about something.

"Look, Romano! There's going to be a guest speaker today!"

"Who?"

"It doesn't say, but he's going to talk about cars and pollution in Germany. Maybe it's one of Germany's scientists."

Romano groaned. "I hope not. That would make the meeting even more boring than it already is."

He took a hopeful look at his phone, but there were no new messages for him. He and Prussia had developed a habit of sending each other a couple of texts almost every day. It had started with Prussia asking really stupid questions about what kind of clothes he should bring to Rome, what kind of snacks they sold at their grocery stores and if there was anything good on TV. Romano had always replied, if only so that he could tell Prussia what an idiot he was.

Prussia didn't stop writing to him, even after he ran out of questions to ask. Romano had thought he would be annoyed by that, but he had discovered that he actually looked forward to hearing from him. It had become a routine. Another, much more depressing reason was that Prussia was writing to him more often than anyone else. When someone else sent him a message, it was usually because they needed something – or because they hit the wrong button on their phone and sent him messages that were meant for Romania.

When Prussia sent him a message, it could be something as mundane as what kind of weather they were having in Berlin or something funny that had happened when he had taken the dogs out. Romano had got so used to it that he now found himself in a sour mood because Prussia hadn't sent him anything yet.

He was forced to put his phone away when the last nations arrived and the meeting was about to begin. England was hosting the event this time. That meant that it was constantly raining outside and that everyone had brought their own lunch boxes.

"Alright, let's get this meeting started. I hope there will be no unnecessary fighting and that certain people will do one or more of the following: pay attention to what others are saying, keep their trousers on and not scare others with ominous threats," England said.

"Yeah, you two, try to behave!" America said to France and Russia.

"Anyway," England said loudly, "Germany says he has prepared a practical example of how to reduce pollution and that he hopes everyone else could try to follow his lead. Since I don't suppose anyone else has put any effort into presenting something today, we might just as well start with that."

England gestured for Germany to get up and walk to the front of the room. Germany did so, but he didn't look like he had any notes with him and didn't use the main computer to open a PowerPoint presentation.

"Actually, I'm not talking today because I didn't write that report. It's a little unusual, but I was persuaded into letting someone else take my place today," Germany said. Romano could have sworn he sent a long glare to his direction, but he couldn't understand why. Nevertheless, it made him shift uncomfortably on his seat.

"Oh, who is it?" England asked. "I organized the extra hotel room like you requested, but –"

Just then, the doors to the conference room were slammed open. Everyone turned to look as an all too familiar person stood in the doorway and regarded them with a cocky grin.

"Hi, guys! Sorry I'm late!" Prussia announced. He marched to the front of the room where his brother was waiting. Prussia was carrying a folder, but even more striking was the fact that he was wearing a suit. Romano had briefly seen him in one when they had been about to visit the Reichstag, but he had hardly noticed back then. Now he did, and he especially noticed how well the suit fit Prussia's slim form and how powerful and full of energy he looked. With a little imagination, it was easy to picture him in uniform.

"What is he doing here?" Austria asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"No talking without raising your hand first, Specs. I'm in charge now," Prussia replied. "But since you asked so nicely, I'll fill you in. I'm going to present you some facts now." With that, he slammed his folder on the table and started fiddling with the computer to get his presentation running.

"That doesn't answer my question. What I want to know is why you're here in the first place," Austria said, but his words were clearly directed at Germany.

"My brother wrote this report, so I decided he would be the best person to talk about it," Germany said.

"And why did he write it? Isn't he supposed to be, like, subdued?" Poland asked.

"I'll show you subdued, Polack, and I don't need an army to do it."

"Why Prussia wrote the report is not important. Please, just listen to him and if you have any questions or criticism about what he says, you can voice your opinion after he's done," Germany said.

Prussia's PowerPoint came up. The template was white with black bars both up and down. At least he had refrained from putting a transparent image of his eagle on it, but Romano still thought it looked pretentious as hell.

Germany gave his brother a pat on the back. "Good luck and please don't start a war with anyone."

"Okay, let's get started," Prussia said. "My topic today is automobile exhaust fumes and how I and West are going to reduce them in the next few years. We've got some awesome ideas that I've summed up for you. If you want to read the whole thing, you'll have to do it in German or wait until the translation is done."

"Like I'm going to waste my time reading a report about some other country's plan, haha," America said.

"I thought I said no talking when I'm talking!" Prussia snapped.

"Hey, no need to go all slave driver on me because of one comment!"

Veneziano giggled and leaned closer to Romano. "Doesn't he sound just like when he was helping us unite?" he asked.

Romano said nothing. Prussia's new – old? – commanding presence made it difficult to notice anything else in the room. He even almost missed the dirty look Austria sent to their direction at Veneziano's comment.

"I meant you, too, Ita-cakes!"

"Aww, don't be mean!"

The situation could have easily turned into fighting. Romano doubted there was a single nation present who was willing to let someone who wasn't even on the map anymore boss them around. Just one more stupid word from Prussia, and someone would stand up and demand to take it outside the meeting room.

Due to some form of miracle, that didn't happen. Prussia got started with his presentation and gave them the facts with military precision. His slides were easy to read and clear – not like those made by America who insisted on using too many flashy effects or by Spain who couldn't get anything organized and sometimes put his slides in the wrong order.

It was only when someone made some off-topic comment that Prussia lapsed back to his normal behaviour and replied with insults and chuckles. Romano was glad whenever that happened; otherwise Prussia reminded him a little too much of Germany.

"And that was that. You can all applaud now," Prussia said when he was finished.

Veneziano clapped his hands enthusiastically, but nobody else joined in.

A few nations had questions about the report, but Prussia let Germany answer them because he would be the one in charge of everything anyway. He took a seat between Poland and Belgium, grinning in self-satisfaction.

For the next two hours, England talked about his plans to make his country more eco-friendly. After that, it was finally lunch break. Before Romano had properly got up from his seat, he felt someone give him a pat to the back.

"Hey, you'll have lunch with me, right?" Prussia asked.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I'll bug West into buying me lunch today. If I invite you, he'll pay for you as well."

"We're at England's place, dumbass. Everyone has their own lunch box."

Prussia's eyes widened. "What, really? Fuck, I totally forgot to do that! Now what am I going to do?"

"Go poke your stupid brother. Maybe he'll give you some sausage," Romano said. "Or you can risk it and buy something at the canteen. I bet the bushy-browed bastard would be happy."

"Nah, I'll pass. I'll just eat from your lunch box instead."

"Like hell you will! It's mine!" Romano instinctively grabbed his suitcase and clutched it against his chest. No way was he letting Prussia have any of his pasta! There was barely enough for him.

"Come on, be fair! I'll buy you a soda if we can find a vending machine."

"No."

Prussia sighed. "You're just no fun. Well, I'm sure Spain and France will share their food with me." 

He looked around to see where his friends were. Romano followed his gaze and spotted the duo talking in a corner. Something seemed to be amiss since they both looked so serious, and Spain was gesturing wildly with his hands.

Prussia, however, didn't seem to notice anything. He approached his friends and surprised France with a pat to the back. Words were exchanged, but Romano couldn't hear what exactly was being said. All he knew was that it couldn't be all too friendly because France soon marched away with his nose in the air. Spain did the same, but he chose a different direction.

Prussia was left standing alone, looking confused and deserted. First he stared after Spain, then France, seemingly unable to decide if he should try to follow either one of them. Finally, he made up his mind and returned to Romano.

"What's with them?" he grumbled.

"Maybe they're fighting," Romano said.

"Spain and France don't fight if they aren't at war. And they wouldn't take it out on me. They never have," Prussia complained, sticking his hands into his pockets and pouting.

Romano supposed that made sense. Spain had never been very hostile in his personal life. He of all people knew that.

"Idiots," Prussia muttered and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" 

"To buy something at the stupid canteen. I've got to eat something if I want to make it through the day."

Romano watched him go, still protectively holding his suitcase against his chest. The sight of Prussia's slumped shoulders made him want to do something that he knew was stupid and illogical, but dammit, it was tempting.

Sadly, self-control had never been one of his strengths.

"Wait, you idiot," he called out.

Prussia turned around and looked at him expectantly.

"You're going to get food poisoning if you eat anything here. And then your brother would yell at me because I was the last person with you, and I'm not going to let him abuse me like that, so you're eating some of my pasta whether you like it or not, dammit!"

Prussia grinned triumphantly. "Haha, I knew you wanted to have lunch with me!"

"No, I just want to survive," Romano grumbled.

They sat down on the first bench they found in the hall. Romano opened his lunch box, which he had filled with pasta, mozzarella and some tomato slices.

Prussia made a face. "It's cold."

"It's meant to be cold! If you don't like it, don't – hey, not with bare hands!"

"Well, how else am I going to eat it? You only have one fork," Prussia said and flipped a piece of tomato into his mouth. Then he grinned. "Unless you want to feed me."

"One more word out of you and I'll stab you with this!" Romano snarled and waved the fork before Prussia's face. However, he refrained from doing that and instead pointed at Prussia's side of the lunch box. "The border is here in the middle. You eat from that side and don't touch my side with your dirty fingers."

"Fine, that's a deal."

They spent the next fifteen minutes eating in silence. Romano wasn't used to that when he wasn't alone; eating was supposed to be punctuated with talking and yelling, even when there was nothing to say. To make it even worse, Prussia was sending odd glances to his direction.

"What do you want?" he finally asked when he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm just wondering if you're going to flip if I tell you that this is good."

"That never happened, asshole. You promised."

"Oh, right." Prussia licked his fingers. "Then I guess it's safe to say this isn't half bad. But it would be better if it wasn't cold."

"I told you it's supposed to be like this! And God, can't you try to behave? You're making a mess."

"You're the one who only brought one fork!"

"Because I wasn't planning to share my lunch with a bastard like you! At least wipe your face!" Romano said and pointed at the paper towels in his lunch box.

"Nah, I'm fine," Prussia said and was about to his sleeve instead.

"Don't do that!" Romano snapped. He couldn't believe that this idiot was about to get his expensive suit dirty. He grabbed one of the towels and forced it into Prussia's hand. "If you're hanging out with me, at least try to act like a fucking adult."

"Man, you're just like West. Always nagging about something," Prussia said, but at least he took the towel. Then he noticed someone behind Romano's back and waved. "Talk about the devil. Hey, West, look! I'm eating pasta!"

"You told me you'd make your own lunch box," Germany said.

"Yeah, but I forgot. But it's okay because Romano shared his with me."

Germany sighed and turned to address Romano. "I'm sorry you had to deal with him."

"Don't worry, Germany! I think Romano and Prussia have become great friends. Besides, Romano always makes too much pasta for himself because he's afraid of running out of it and staying hungry!" Veneziano chimed in.

"Shut up!"

"Good to know. Then I won't have to bother with my own lunch boxes at all," Prussia said.

"Like hell. You're buying me lunch next time."

"Besides, you won't be coming to any other world meetings. This was a one time thing, remember?" Germany pointed out.

"You're such a spoilsport, West."

"It's your own fault for trying to blackmail me. A nation shouldn't do that, especially with photos taken without consent," Germany said, sending a wary glance to Romano's direction.

"Wait," Romano said. "Is this about –"

"That really nice photo you took of me and Germany? Yes! It was so adorable. Romano, why did you not show it to me? It's a good thing Prussia sent a copy to Germany so that I could have one, too!"

"Please don't take photos like that of me anymore," Germany said. "And especially don't send them to Prussia. It would only give him terrible ideas."

Prussia shrugged. "Well, it got me into a world meeting, didn't it?"

"I would have asked you to come anyway. The report you wrote was really good, and you were the best person to present it to the others," Germany said.

For the shortest moments, Prussia just stared at his brother with a stunned look, but he quickly hid it behind a grin. "Yeah, I'm just awesome like that!" he said. Romano didn't miss the slightest flush on his cheeks or the almost awkward way he reached up to run his fingers through his hair. He supposed Prussia didn't get compliments often, especially not from his brother.

"By the way, Romano. Is something wrong with Spain? We ran into him, but he wouldn't talk to us at all!" Veneziano said.

"He's fighting with France."

"What? Why? They were so happy together!"

Romano couldn't say he understood it either. Everything he had seen so far had made it look like Spain and France were the perfect match.

Veneziano let out a hum. "Maybe they were a little too happy together," he said.

"That's bullshit," Romano said. As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too happy. Or if there was, he would have gladly experienced that, even just for a moment. Heck, just plain happy with someone would have been enough for him.

"We really shouldn't talk about them behind their back like this. We know nothing, and it's none of our business," Germany said. When Veneziano tried to protest, he added, "And it's about time we returned to the meeting room. I think I overheard Netherlands saying that he has some ideas he'd like to talk about. That could be productive."

"Pfft, I doubt it. Everyone's going to look lame now that I've talked here," Prussia said.

***

Before Romano knew it, it was almost time for Germany and Prussia to come to Rome. In fact, they would be arriving the following day.

"Romano, what's wrong?" Veneziano asked.

"Nothing. Sleep, idiot."

"I can't sleep when you keep turning over all the time. Did you eat too much at dinner? Does your stomach hurt?"

Romano pulled his blanket up to his chin. "I'm fine," he grumbled. If it only were some extra pasta. That he could have dealt with. But he knew exactly what it was that was giving him such an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach. And he hated that because it was stupid as hell.

"If those two bastards don't like my house, I'm going to ban them from Rome so that they can never come back," he said.

"What makes you think they won't like it? You even fixed that broken step I've been telling you forever about!"

"I didn't fix it for them! I've been meaning to do that for a long time now!"

"Okay," Veneziano said agreeably. "But don't worry! I'm sure they'll love your house and your city."

"They had better," Romano said. He didn't care about Germany that much, but he wasn't sure if he could take it if Prussia made some stupid joke about his city. Rome was his heart; an insult to the city was an insult to him.

He shouldn't have given a damn about Prussia's opinion either. His should have mattered even less than Germany's. But hell, it mattered a lot, and he wanted Prussia to have fun.

Yeah, he was so going to ban him if he didn't enjoy himself. And he'd do that before Prussia would have the time to say that he wasn't coming back anyway because he had had a shitty time. 

In your face, asshole, Romano thought and clenched his eyes shut, hoping to get some sleep.

***

When their guests arrived the next day, Romano immediately noticed that he wasn't the only one who was nervous. Germany was clutching his luggage so hard that his knuckles had turned white, and he regarded everything around him with an uncomfortable look. It was as if he had arrived to a party and realised that nobody else was wearing a costume.

Romano should have been happy that Germany wasn't happy, but he wasn't. Who did the bastard think he was? Was his house not good enough for him? Yeah, he would have no doubt rather stayed at Veneziano's place in Milan or something. Well, too bad for him.

"Welcome to Rome, Germany!"

Germany ignored Veneziano, who was pretty much clinging to his arm now, and turned to address Romano.

"Thank you for inviting us."

"It's just because he wanted," Romano said and pointed at Veneziano with his thumb.

"Yes, but you didn't have to."

"Aww, West. Don't complain. Besides, I'm sure he wanted to invite me."

Romano ignored Prussia and scowled at Germany. "You of all people know how annoying my brother is when he can't get what he wants. So stop thanking me and get moving! We're taking the bus."

Romano's house was located in a crowded neighbourhood where most of the buildings stood so close to each other that neighbours could chat and have breakfast together through open windows. Romano had the best of both worlds. The house to his west was close, and he knew the elderly couple and their pretty granddaughter who visited them nearly every day very well. He had no close neighbours on the eastern side, so there was room for a small garden where he had a few tomato plants growing in pots.

The house itself had three storeys and enough room for as many families, but Romano lived alone, except when he had Veneziano or Spain over. He didn't mind that; it left him with plenty of storage room for things he was no longer interested in but didn't want to throw away.

But most importantly, he had plenty of guestrooms.

"Your rooms are on the first floor," he announced to Germany and Prussia as soon as they arrived.

"What? But my room is on the third floor! That's not fair, Romano!" Veneziano wailed.

"My house. My rules." Actually, he would have liked for Veneziano to sleep in his room like they always did when they were alone, just to be sure, but he supposed that was asking a bit too much. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit.

"But it's going to be such a bother to sneak into Germany's room at night, especially since you forgot to change the broken lamp in the hallway!"

"That's the point. You aren't going into his room, and if he takes even one step towards the third floor, I'll –"

"Aww, Romano!"

Germany cleared his throat. "It's not so bad. And he's right. It's his house. You got your way when we were staying at my house, so it's only fair that we follow his rules here."

"Whatever. You two can always slip away for a quickie in the bathroom when he's not looking. But I want to see my room now!" Prussia said.

Romano used this as the chance to end the conversation and direct Germany and Prussia to their rooms. They were nice rooms, especially Prussia's, which had a window that opened to the garden. 

"Yeah, I like this!" Prussia announced and threw his luggage on the bed. He quickly followed it and bounced up and down as he tested the springs.

"Stop that! It's an old bed!" Romano snapped.

"West, I sure hope your bed isn't nice and bouncy like this. Because it would be a total waste since Ita-cakes can't come to your room."

"It doesn't matter," Germany said.

"Damn right, and now your room," Romano said.

Germany's room was on the other side of the hallway. It was almost identical to Prussia's room, only a little smaller. And Germany's window was right under the spot where both Romano and the old couple kept their trash cans.

Once Germany and Prussia were settling in their rooms, Romano climbed up to the second floor. Apart from the bedrooms, life in the house concentrated there because he had renovated a few decades ago and joined two rooms into a huge kitchen. There were few things he enjoyed more than sitting on the couch and watching either Veneziano or Spain cook for him on the other side of the room.

"I don't think you were very nice to them," Veneziano pointed out.

Romano just snorted. He hadn't been in a bad mood when Germany and Prussia had arrived, but he had acted hostile towards them out of habit. Now he _was_ in a bad mood, and it was all his own fault. He didn't want to be nice to Germany and Prussia, but he also didn't want to be a bad host because then they wouldn't like Rome, and – dammit, this was all so stupid and complicated.

"I'm sure everyone will feel better after we've eaten," Veneziano said diplomatically and lifted the lid on one of the pans to sniff at the tomato sauce. "And then you can tell us what we're going to do tomorrow."

"Me? Why me?" Romano asked.

"Because it's your city! You know it the best!"

"I'm not going to play a tour guide for those two! This whole thing was your idea, so you do it!"

"Aww, but I haven't planned anything!"

"Well, neither have I!"

Veneziano made a thoughtful face. "Then how about we just go to the Colosseum? It's a good place to start."

"Whatever."

Romano gritted his teeth and tried to relax. He was going to ruin everything if he didn't lighten up, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Old insecurities that he had thought he had forgotten were whispering into his ear again. Now that he had let Prussia into his home, there was no turning back. He had to make him like it, he just had to. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to look Prussia in the eyes ever again.

Dammit, when had it started to matter to him so much what Prussia thought about anything? He didn't want to worry about that; it was just making him even more miserable. And when he was miserable, he tried to protect his feelings by lashing out at others before they'd lash out at him.

He could already tell this weekend would end in a catastrophe. The worst part was that he had no idea how to stop himself from ruining it, even though he wished so badly that everything would go well.

***

Prussia was lying on his back on his bed with his hands crossed behind his head. Man, he still couldn't believe that he was actually in Rome and in Romano's house. Even after they had somehow grown close enough to actually want to talk to each other, it was strange to think that he had invited him.

He liked the feel of his room. It obviously wasn't in regular use because it hadn't been renovated; the floor was made of some kind of rough stone, and the windowsill looked like it hadn't seen a paint brush in ten years. All in all, it didn't look like a very inviting room, but the stone floor was pleasantly cool against skin and the peeling paint was kind of charming.

To be honest, this atmosphere made Prussia immediately think of Romano. And that made him recall all the peanut curls he had brought from Germany. He had better take them to the kitchen or Romano might think he had forgotten them and not cook for him.

He had no idea where the kitchen was, but the pleasant smells revealed its location to him right away. He stopped to stand at the entrance and watched the Italy brothers busy themselves with cooking. Romano was doing something with cheese while Italy was occupied with the sauce that was boiling on the stove.

"Isn't this way too early? I thought you Italians had dinner at night," he said.

"In the evening, actually, but we're eating earlier today because of you," Italy said.

"You shouldn't. I'm used to eating at all times of the day, and West can just suck it up," Prussia said. He found an empty spot at the counter and dumped the bags of peanut curls there. "Here are the things you wanted."

"What?" Romano turned around and stared at the snacks like he had no idea what was going on. Then, for whatever reason, his cheeks flushed. "Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Why did you want these, Romano? I thought you said they taste terrible except when you've got a hangover," Italy said.

"Shut up! I did not! And even if I did, it's none of your business!"

Prussia looked from one brother to another. "Okay, I'm confused. Did you want them or not?"

Romano muttered something.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said I'll take them! God, you two are making such a fuss about some stupid snacks!"

"You're the one who's making a fuss here," Italy said.

Prussia was starting to grow a little irritated. He'd just been on a flight and on a train and on a very crowded and disorganized bus. And he'd brought nearly a kilo of peanut snacks with him, and Romano couldn't even give him a proper thank you. Fuck that.

Romano's cheeks were flushed, and he looked dangerously close to doing something violent to the chunk of cheese in his hands. "Maybe I wouldn't have to throw a fuss if you didn't say such stupid shit all the time!"

Prussia tried to wrap his mind around what was going on, but before he could get too occupied with that, he heard Germany coming up the stairs.

"War zone in the kitchen, West. Watch out," he said.

"What is it?"

"Romano is just being difficult again. Nothing serious," Italy said happily.

"Ah, then maybe I'll go back to my room," Germany said.

"I'll come with you! Romano, you can take care of the rest, can't you?" Italy suggested.

"I thought I made it clear that you and the bastard can't stay in the same room alone?"

"Yes, but you only said we can't sleep together. It's not night yet. And we'll leave the door open if you're worried. Germany is really loud, so you'll hear it right away if anything suspicious happens!"

Prussia couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother blush such a delightful shade of red. He cackled as he watched Germany give Italy a sharp push down the stairs and listened to the angry lecturing the poor guy got on their way to Germany's room.

He was about to make a snide comment about their active little brothers, but then he noticed how stiff Romano's shoulders were and how he was using entirely too much force with the knife. The sour scowl on his face made it look like he wanted to kill someone.

Prussia couldn't help but think back to what Romano had told him during his last time in Berlin and how people didn't understand him. It was a vicious cycle. Romano was terrible at telling anyone how he really felt, but then he got angry when they didn't know what he meant. It made him so difficult to deal with that it was no wonder people just dismissed his feelings and never got to the bottom of it – just like Italy just now.

He wasn't really sure what he should have done. He didn't want to make Romano even more upset, but he wasn't known for being able to choose the right words in situations like this. Most likely he'd just make everything worse if --

Crap, the tomato sauce looked like it was boiling over! Prussia grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter and lifted the lid of the pot – and dropped it with a yell when it burned his fingers.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Romano asked as he turned around.

"Trying to help you," Prussia said and shoved his fingers into his mouth. Fuck, that had hurt!

"You can't grab the lid without a pot patch! Don't you know anything about cooking?"

"I can warm things in the microwave if that counts."

"God, you're useless," Romano said. He walked to the sink and turned on the water. "Get those fingers out of your mouth and keep them under cold water for a while."

"Sure, thanks," Prussia said and did just that.

They fell into silence that was only broken by the bubbling of the tomato sauce and the sound of the running water. Prussia turned it off after a while, figuring that he wasn't that badly burnt after all.

Romano glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "There's ice cream in the freezer if the water wasn't cold enough," he said.

"Nah, that would be a criminal waste of ice cream. I'd much rather eat it. Italian ice cream is the best."

"Damn right."

***

The next day, they went to the Colosseum. Germany had seen it before but had never been inside with a guide, so he was more than happy about that development. For Prussia, the place was entirely new and not all that exciting, but he supposed he could play along for his brother's sake.

"Are there always this many people here?" he complained as they were standing in line and waiting to buy tickets inside.

"You can still leave if you don't want to come," Romano said.

"That's not what I meant," Prussia said and shoved his hands into his pockets. He had been hoping that Romano would be in a better mood after a good night's sleep, but no such luck. If this was how he was going to be for their entire stay, it was going to be an absolutely miserable time for him. Germany and Italy had each other, and Prussia had been hoping he could hang out and have fun with Romano.

It didn't get much better once they were finally inside the Colosseum. Italy kept blabbering happily about the building and its history, and for once Germany listened to every single word he said. Prussia rolled his eyes as he watched them. It was a surprise Germany didn't get a hard-on when Italy showed him where the rooms for the gladiators and shit had once been.

Prussia was much more interested in Romano who was sulking on the edges of their group and not saying a word unless someone directed a question at him. Prussia was honestly at a loss of what to do, and he was starting to get a headache from thinking about it too much.

I shouldn't give a fuck if he's being a bitch, he thought grumpily. If Romano had problems and didn't want to talk about them, fine. Not his business. Except that he couldn't ignore that. He wanted his warm, happy Italian holiday, and he wanted Romano to look like he was having fun, too. It seriously didn't speak well of Prussia's awesomeness if Romano was sulking in his presence like that.

He decided to do something to cheer him up. As they were leaving the Colosseum to have lunch somewhere in the city, Prussia slipped away from the others and jogged to one of the stands that were selling things for tourists.

He bought two items and hurried back to the others just as Germany was digging out his phone to call him and demand to know where he had disappeared to.

"Got lost in the crowd!" Prussia announced

Prussia let Germany and Italy keep going. In the midst of their conversation (if Italy blabbering about every building and street corner that came their way could be called that), they didn't notice that their brothers were slower and were soon so far left behind that they could no longer hear them.

"I've got something for you," Prussia announced.

Romano directed a doubtful glare at him.

"Ta-daa!" Prussia pulled out a miniature Colosseum from his pocket and presented it to Romano on his palm.

Romano, unfortunately, didn't look one bit impressed.

"You bought me tourist crap in my own city?" he asked.

Prussia glanced at the item. "Uh, yeah," he said. On second thought, maybe it wasn't the best present in the world. In fact, if he hadn't been so awesome that he never gave bad presents, he might have been tempted to think it was kind of shitty.

"It's not even that well made," Romano commented.

"Well, if you don't want it, I'll just take it back." Prussia tried not to feel disappointed about Romano's lack of gratitude.

"Idiot. The guy at the stand is just going to pretend that he's never even seen you before. You're stuck with it now."

"Two, actually. I got one for myself, too," Prussia said and pulled out the other one.

"God, you let them screw you over twice? Nobody in their right mind buys this crap!"

"Sheesh, sorry for supporting your tourist industry! You don't have to take that thing. I'll give it to West!" Now Prussia was positively annoyed, and maybe just a little hurt. He was starting to wish that he had brought his laptop and some game with him so that he could lock himself up in his room for some lonely awesome time.

"I didn't say I wouldn't take it!"

"Yeah, you just said it's shit! Really, what crawled up your ass and died? Why are you in such a pissy mood all the time? I thought this was going to be fun," Prussia said.

Romano was looking everywhere but at him. His cheeks were covered in red splotches that Prussia might have thought were cute if he wasn't feeling so pissed off himself.

"I meant –" Romano started, but he was cut off almost right away.

"Prussia! What are you two doing there?"

Prussia turned to look at his brother. He and Italy must have realised they were nowhere to be seen and had come back for them. "Nothing. Just talking."

"You're obviously bothering him. Stop it," Germany said sternly.

"I'm not doing anything! He's the one who – or whatever. Fuck it. Let's just go and eat something."

Prussia shoved the miniatures back into his pocket and marched past his brother, rolling his eyes as he heard Germany apologize to Romano for whatever Prussia had done to him. He caught sight of Italy's worried face as he passed him.

Dammit, West, I sure hope you're enjoying this catastrophe of a vacation because I'm pretty sure nobody else is, he thought.

***

Lunch didn't go very well. Prussia and Romano were both sulking, and even Veneziano's happy encouragement didn't get them to lighten up. In fact, it eventually resulted in Romano snapping at his brother so venomously that he started to cry. And then Germany was in a terrible mood as well, glaring daggers at Romano and Prussia (whom he suspected of being the source of all the trouble) as he awkwardly patted Italy on the back.

Because of the atmosphere, they skipped visiting some Roman ruins and returned to Romano's house where Prussia immediately retreated to his room. He threw himself on his bed and placed Gilbird on his stomach.

"This holiday sucks so much," he said to the bird.

All he got as a response was a chirp, but he knew Gilbird was in total agreement with him. Because he was always right.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he realised was that someone was knocking on his door. He blinked groggily and looked around his room. Everything was engulfed by reddish light, and one glance out the window told him that he must have been out of it for hours. The sky was bright orange.

He walked to the door, rubbing his eyes, and pulled it open. He didn't know what to think when he saw that it was Romano.

"What?" Prussia croaked.

"Veneziano and the bastard went out."

"Yeah?"

Romano's arms were crossed on his chest, and he was glaring at Prussia with a demanding scowl. "So you're coming out with me because you still owe me half a lunch box, asshole."

To be honest, Prussia didn't really want to. He still felt like shit from earlier, and now he was sluggish and still half-asleep to boost. Merely looking at Romano irritated him. Just because he had issues didn't give him the right to treat others like crap and then act like nothing had happened.

On the other hand, he was hungry. If Germany and Italy had gone out, that probably meant nobody would be cooking at the house that day.

"Sure, whatever," he said, not putting much enthusiasm into it.

Romano's scowl deepened at that, but he said nothing. He led Prussia outside where the air had acquired a pleasant, sleepy scent but hadn't turned uncomfortably chilly.

Prussia expected them to just walk somewhere, so he was taken by surprise when Romano threw a helmet into this hands.

"Stop gawking and put it on," Romano said. With that, Romano walked into the small shed in the garden and took out a red Vespa.

"I have to drive that?" Prussia asked.

"Not you. Me."

"But I always drive! It's boring to sit on the back!"

"You aren't driving my Vespa."

Romano's voice was so determined that Prussia knew he had lost the battle. With a sigh, he put on the helmet and climbed to sit behind Romano. He wasn't actually a fan of scooters, but Romano still had it better than him since Germany hadn't yet agreed to buy Prussia a motorcycle despite his constant asking.

At first, Prussia wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He wasn't used to this, so he wanted to grab onto something, but he doubted Romano would appreciate a pair of hands on his waist. He settled with Romano's shoulders instead, and even that felt strange somehow. Was this the first time he touched Romano in any concrete way?

"I'm hungry, so I'm not going to come back for you if you fall," Romano announced in a muffled voice through the helmet.

"No need to. I can run faster than this thing."

If Romano said something after that, Prussia didn't hear it from under the start of the engine. The next thing he knew, he was clutching at Romano's shoulders like his life depended on it. The cobblestone street made the ride bumpy, but that didn't stop Romano from driving at a speed that couldn't possibly be within the limits. It got even worse when they entered an asphalt road and he could speed up some more and do sharper turns at corners.

Fuck, he's getting us both killed, Prussia thought. They drove to a crossroads and nearly hit a car because Romano kept driving even though the lights had just turned red. At that split second, Prussia felt the first real stab of fear in many years.

And he loved it. His years after the reunification of Germany hadn't been bad, but they had been boring as hell. Online games were fun but couldn't replace the thrill that came from real danger, whether it was standing on the front lines or taking political risks that could lead to his country's destruction. Or nearly crashing into a car on a bright red Vespa, it seemed.

He couldn't help but laugh as he listened to his frantic heartbeat and tried to shift his weight on the scooter so that it would support the insane swerves Romano did. He was a little disappointed when they arrived at a restaurant without further near-accidents.

Romano lifted a brow at him when he took off his helmet and offered it to him.

"What?" Prussia asked.

"What got to you? You look like you're drunk."

Prussia's hands flew up to his cheeks, and he realised they had to be aflame with colour. It wasn't often that he blushed, so he felt his grin widen.

"Haha, maybe I just liked the ride with you that much," he said.

"Yeah, right. Fuck you."

Prussia was still feeling a little high, so he didn't mind Romano's insult. He was too busy with new ideas. Why had he given up sword fighting? Just because new weapons had been developed, it didn't mean that swords weren't awesome anymore. And it was ages since he had last ridden a horse. Maybe he could give hang gliding a try. Anything to get to taste some more danger again.

They ate in near silence, which was fine with Prussia. He was in a good mood again, but that didn't mean he wanted to strike up a conversation with Romano as if nothing had happened. Especially since Romano's mood clearly hadn't improved that much. He kept shooting wary glares to his direction over his plate when he thought Prussia wasn't looking.

Maybe that was how it was meant to be, Prussia thought in disappointment. Maybe he had been a fool to think that he and Romano would ever become friends.

"We're done," Romano announced when they had finished eating. He waved at the waiter and walked out, leaving Prussia to figure out how big their bill was.

"He's kind of an asshole," he said to the waiter and nodded at Romano just as the Italian nation left through the doors.

Prussia thought they would drive back to Romano's house and maybe spend the rest of the evening not talking to each other, so he was surprised when he realised that Romano picked a very different route.

The road led upwards, so they couldn't drive as fast as Prussia would have liked – though he was already anticipating the way back.

Romano parked the scooter by the road and got off. Without a word, he started walking towards a clearing paved with stone. Prussia followed after a moment of hesitation, curious to see where they were and why they had come there.

He was about to ask Romano what they were doing, but his breath got caught in his throat as soon as he reached him. All questions fled from his mind, and he was unable to do much more than stare at the view that spread before their eyes.

Countless domes and towers stood as far in the distance as he could see. The buildings looked tiny from atop the hill, like miniatures that some artist had carved in loving detail. There were just so many of them that Prussia didn't know where he should have looked; he wanted to keep moving his gaze so that he could see everything at once.

The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon, but what remained of its light was still caressing the numerous buildings and creating shadows between them. Prussia felt like he was seeing straight into the heart of Rome.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"The Janiculum Hill."

"It's pretty cool," Prussia said with a shrug. He couldn't really admit that a view was enough to fill him with awe, could he? "So, why are we here?"

Romano didn't answer right away. "I like the view. I wanted to show it to you."

Prussia got the feeling that these weren't quite the words that Romano wanted to say, so he remained silent and waited.

Romano leaned against the low stone wall on the edge of the hill and kept staring at the view. The lingering rays of the sun gave his hair a rufous hue. His lips moved slightly, but Prussia couldn't hear what he was saying.

"What?"

Romano turned to glare at him with irritated and accusing eyes. "It was hard enough to say it the first time, so learn to listen better, asshole." He drew a deep breath and turned to look to his side. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

Now Romano looked positively furious. His cheeks were instantly aflame with his anger. "Fucking hell –" he started , but Prussia cut him off.

"No, no, I heard you just fine. Just... what are you talking about?" 

"Like you don't know. Now that I've said I'm sorry, let's go back," Romano said. He started walking towards the scooter. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Prussia was following him.

"Is this about your shitty behaviour?" Prussia asked, not moving an inch. When Romano didn't answer, he continued, "Come on, get back here. Let's enjoy the view until it gets too dark."

At first he was sure that Romano would just flip him the finger, get on his scooter and leave him behind, but then the other nation slowly returned to his earlier spot. Prussia watched him as he stared at the view with a stubborn pout on his face.

Romano looked so tense. He was scowling, his cheeks were red and blotched, and the line of his mouth was so tight and angry that his lips could barely be seen. Prussia got the feeling that the slightest nudge would push Romano over the edge and break him.

"So, what's eating you?" he asked.

No answer.

"Hey, come on. It's not enough that you apologize. You could at least tell me why you've been acting like a total bitch ever since we got here."

Romano turned to glare at him, his scowl deepening. "Why should I?"

"Well, how am I going to forgive you if you don't give me anything to work with? Or do you even care about what I think? If not, let's just go to your place and see if West and Italy are back," Prussia said impatiently.

He lifted his brows and waited for an answer.

Romano lowered his eyes. "I wanted you to have a great time, dammit. It just didn't work like I wanted. I should have known it never would because I'm such a fucking loser."

"I'm not sure I get it. If you wanted us to have fun, why did you treat us like that from the beginning? What did we do to piss you off?" Prussia asked. Well, apart from Germany screwing Italy, but Prussia had no part in that (sadly!), so he should have been off the hook.

"Nothing," Romano grumbled.

"So..." Prussia prodded. He was beginning to understand what Romano was getting at, but he'd be damned if he'd let him get away with not saying it himself.

"So I treated you like shit because I was nervous, okay? Goddammit, why is it so hard to get? I wanted you to have a great time, but I knew you wouldn't because it just wouldn't work, so I had to act like I didn't give a damn. Then I wouldn't have to feel sorry when you thought everything was crap," Romano said. His voiced cracked, and he had to wipe his eyes that had started to water. "Dammit, are you happy now?"

"Nah," Prussia said. "You look like shit when you're miserable."

"Go to hell."

"Why were you so sure we wouldn't have a great time anyway?" Prussia asked.

Romano had managed to get the tears from his eyes, and now he just looked puffy and red but not like he was about to start sobbing his eyes out.

"Because it's me. You've only been to Veneziano's place until now, and I was sure you wouldn't like it here. My house isn't beautiful like his, and he's a much better host anyway." Romano crossed his arms on his chest and glared at his feet.

"Look at me," Prussia said. Romano reluctantly did, and Prussia continued, "That's the biggest pile of bullshit I've heard in a long time."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I was really looking forward to this trip and having fun here. It might be hard to believe because I'm so awesome, but I don't actually get invited to places that often. Usually I have to invite myself because they forget to send me invitations. So yeah, you've kind of ruined this whole vacation for me," Prussia said.

Romano snorted, but his frown looked more sorry than angry. "I know that. No need to rub it in," he said quietly.

"But damn, your reason for that is the stupidest ever! I came here because of you. If I didn't want to come, I would have said no to your invitation," Prussia said. He suddenly realised something and couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Romano snapped.

"Haha, I never realised you wanted those snacks just so that you could tell me to come here without actually inviting me. Because if you had, I might have said no," Prussia said. It was a little sad, he had to admit.

"No need to laugh about it, dammit," Romano grumbled.

"Sorry. I just think it's so cute. Like I said, people are stupid and don't invite me over too often. I don't think there's anyone else but you who's actually worried I might decline."

"That's so pathetic," Romano said.

"Nah, I'm just too awesome for most people to handle."

Romano fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt. "Did... did you mean what you just said? About coming here because of me? Because if you lied, I will kick your ass so hard that –"

"Yeah, I meant it. I had a pretty awesome fun with you last time in Berlin. So stop worrying," Prussia cut him off.

Romano stared at him for a moment, still frowning and pouting in suspicion. His features softened somewhat, and Prussia was about to let out a relieved sigh. At least things were now –

And then Romano started crying. 

Prussia tensed and stared at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, unable to think clearly. What the fuck? What had he done wrong this time? How could he make this stop?

"Uh, there, there," he said awkwardly. Dammit, he hadn't actually wanted to make Romano cry! Now as he watched him bawl his eyes out, he realised that his favourite expression on Romano's face was that cute pout he made when he was happy and too embarrassed to say it.

"Shut up," Romano muttered between gulps of breath. After a while, he started calming down.

"What did I do this time?" Prussia asked somewhat forlornly. He hated to admit it, but it looked like he sucked at talking to Romano. He just ended up hurting his feelings no matter what he said.

"Nothing. Idiot," Romano said, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"Then why were you crying again?"

"It's stupid," Romano said.

"I don't think you can surprise me anymore, so shoot. I won't laugh," Prussia said.

"You had better not," Romano muttered, but there was none of the usual fire in his voice. He just sounded tired. "It's just that... I'm so stupid. I was sure you wouldn't ever want to hang out with just me. Everyone likes Veneziano better. I'm not enough like him."

"Hey, that's exactly why I like you! Sure, your brother's cute, but you're... funny," Prussia said, catching himself just as he was about to say that Romano was cuter. It was true, but he realised he didn't want to say that and not just because then Romano would snap at him again. It was a somewhat awkward thing to say when he really, really meant it.

"I don't even know why I give a shit," Romano said.

Prussia turned to look at the view. The sun had set, and it was almost dark. The city looked even more gorgeous now, lights from windows making it look like a sky with thousands of stars.

He knew he should have already cracked some joke to lighten the mood, but he was all out of ideas. He hadn't realised that it was so important to Romano that they had a great time together. It gave him a feeling that wasn't too different from someone tickling his stomach from the inside, or at least he imagined so. It wasn't like he knew what that was like.

And then Romano cried because he was so relieved to hear that Prussia liked his company. It was... Prussia realised he had no word in his vocabulary for that, but he liked it. A lot.

"Hey, can we make a deal?" he asked.

"What deal?"

"I don't like being treated like crap, you know? So stop worrying and just be yourself. Like in Berlin. That's the way I like you the best."

"God, you sound like the biggest wuss in the world," Romano said.

"Now wait a minute! I'm not the one crying here!"

"I'm not crying anymore, moron."

"But you're still scowling at me." 

Then Prussia got an idea. He slipped his hand into his pocket and – aha, yes, he still had them. He pulled out the two miniatures of the Colosseum he had brought and showed them to Romano.

"You want one now?" he asked.

Romano stared at the miniatures, expressionless until the corner of his mouth started tugging upwards. He quickly covered it with his hand.

"They're still crap," he said.

"Well, then they're a great conclusion to a really shitty day, don't you think?" Prussia asked. He grabbed Romano's hand and shoved one of the miniatures into it. "Throw it in the trash for all I care. I know my gifts are always awesome, so I don't care what you do."

"Whatever," Romano said, but he did put the miniature into his pocket. "Should we start getting back?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea. If West and Italy are already there, who knows what they're doing now that they've got the house for themselves?"

"I don't care what my brother does. Why should I?" Romano mumbled.

"Oh, so it's okay if I tell West he can sneak into Italy's room tonight?"

"No. But it's okay for Veneziano to sneak into his room."

"Cool! Then – Hey! West's room is right next to mine! They'd keep me awake all night! Not fair!" Prussia protested, but Romano had already put his helmet on and didn't reply.

The ride back to Romano's house wasn't nearly as exciting as the earlier trip, but Prussia didn't mind. He felt drained somehow, so it was enough for him to keep holding Romano's shoulders and watch the people, the cars and the light pouring from restaurants that they passed.

There was a sudden bump in the road that sent them off balance. Startled, Prussia moved his hands from Romano's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his waist. He felt Romano tense, but there was no angry snap to make him let go.

Encouraged, he didn't move his hands even after they were back in control and driving safely again. Romano still said nothing, so Prussia guessed it was okay.


	14. Chapter 14

When Romano woke up, he knew right away that he was the only one awake. The house was silent; if he hadn't known better, he would have believed he was all alone. He couldn't hear the tapping of anyone's feet on the floor, the water in the pipes after someone used the toilet or the creak that came from opening one of the old doors.

He could never sleep in when he had guests. For a moment, he simply lay on his bed and enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling of ease. He had slept well, and he realised he was looking forward to the upcoming day. Talking with Prussia the previous evening had been humiliating, but it had soothed his nerves. What Prussia had told him made him comfortably warm even now, and he felt a little foolish about his earlier fears and shitty behaviour.

But I won't apologize to the other bastard, he decided. He would die if he ever had to say the same things to Germany. Prussia was different somehow. Prussia didn't glare at him with that exasperated frown that made Germany look like he had accepted his fate as the victim of Romano's abuse. When Prussia looked at him, Romano felt like trying to improve.

He threw the covers off him and lowered his bare feet on the floor, shivering at the cool touch. He quickly went to his closet to get some clothes for the day. As he picked up his jacket from the previous evening, he thought it felt a bit too heavy.

He slipped his hand into one of the pockets and pulled out the miniature Colosseum.

Romano snorted. "Total crap."

He placed the miniature on his nightstand before heading down to the kitchen. On his way, he took a peek into Veneziano's room, only to see that his bed was empty. No surprise there. Romano frowned and shook his head, but all things considered, he wasn't that bothered.

Romano was in the middle of having a cup of coffee when Prussia stumbled into the room, dressed only in a black T-shirt and his bunny boxers.

"Morning!" he announced and took a seat opposite him at the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Why are you up?" Romano asked. From what he had understood, Prussia normally slept until noon.

"I went to bed at midnight. I haven't done that since West got me Internet in the basement," Prussia replied. His smirk widened. "And the lovebirds were quiet. I only woke up when Italy stumbled in the dark and hit his head on the door on his way in."

"Serves him right," Romano said.

"At least he got the right room."

Romano chose to down the rest of his coffee instead of answering. The idea of Veneziano accidentally going into Prussia's room and maybe even jumping into his bed before realising his mistake threatened to ruin his relaxed mood.

"But anyway. Breakfast! What are we having?"

"Take whatever you want," Romano said and pointed his thumb at the fridge.

Prussia's face fell. "What, you aren't going to serve me?"

"I'm not your damn maid! You can make your own breakfast!"

"Yeah, but I was hoping that you'd make enough for me when you make some for yourself. I mean, you are having more than that tiny cup of coffee, right?"

"No. That's enough," Romano said.

Prussia stared at him, then at the cup, then at him again. "You're kidding. You need at least one mug of coffee. Your cup is barely enough for one gulp."

"That's because we drink real coffee, not dishwater like you. You try drinking a whole mug of this and let's see how fast your stupid heart is beating after that."

From the look on Prussia's face, Romano knew that the idiot didn't believe him. Well, that was his problem. Romano would be more than happy to let him try pouring half a litre of strong espresso down his throat and watch him face the consequences.

He observed how Prussia went to rummage in the fridge and pulled out butter, milk, cheese, yoghurt and a piece of cake.

"You're going to eat all that?" he asked, making a face.

"Yeah. I'm always hungry in the morning."

Prussia grabbed a thick slice of bread and spread some butter on it before dumping a chunk of cheese on top of it. He opened the carton of yoghurt but instead of getting a spoon, he just drank straight from it. Just when Romano was starting to think he couldn't get any worse, he attempted the same with the milk.

"Hey!" Romano snapped and snatched the carton from him just before it touched his lips. "Stop! The rest of us have to drink that, too!"

"Don't be a spoilsport!"

"Get a fucking glass and stop being so gross!"

"Don't nag! Man, you're just like West," Prussia said. He grabbed the cup Romano had used for his coffee and poured some milk into it.

Romano rolled his eyes but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble to complain. He spent the next fifteen minutes just watching Prussia stuff his face with more food than Romano thought would fit into his stomach. It made him a little sick to see it.

"I'm going to take a shower," Prussia announced. He grabbed the little chick that was always on his head and placed him on the table. "Look after Gilbird for me, okay?"

"I'm not your birdsitter either," Romano grumbled.

He and the bird sat in silence. Romano tried to ignore him, but his eyes kept turning to his direction over and over again. He was... kind of cute, he had to admit. He wouldn't want to walk around with him on his head, but he could think of more ridiculous pets to have. Like Spain's stupid bull.

"Stop staring at me, dammit," he said, but Gilbird only tilted his head to the side and kept looking at him. Then it tweeted.

Romano sighed. "Do you want something?" Maybe the bird was hungry. Did birds have breakfast? Would it be okay to give something to him? What if he got sick?

Feeling a little wary, he took a slice of bread from the basket on the table and crumbled a little of it into his hand. He was about to take a crumb or two and just throw them on the table, but before he had the time to do that, Gilbird had jumped on his hand and was eating straight from it.

"Have it your way," Romano muttered. He leaned his chin on his free hand and watched the bird peck at the crumbs.

It was kind of distracting to watch the thing eat, so he didn't realise that Prussia was back until he heard his voice.

"Hey, look at you two! You're bonding," he said.

"No, we're not!" Romano snapped. "You just forgot to give your bird food. You suck as a pet owner."

"Aww, I'm sorry, Gilbird. It won't happen again," Prussia said and leaned closer to coo at the bird. He gave him a gentle poke on the head with his finger.

"Take your bird away," Romano said at once. He didn't like the shiver that went through him when Prussia's hand briefly brushed against his. Even worse, he suddenly became aware of the fact that Prussia was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and that his hair was still wet. Droplets of water were slowly rolling down his pale skin.

Romano jumped to his feet so quickly that he nearly knocked over the chair. He hurried to turn around and open the fridge so that Prussia wouldn't see the treacherous blush on his face.

"What now?" Prussia asked.

"I'm having breakfast after all."

Fucking hell. What was wrong with him? Prussia wasn't even attractive. Not at all. Romano liked people with tanned skin and dark hair – and some more muscles if they were male. Prussia was absolutely not his type and... and what the hell was he even thinking? Was it so long ago that he had broken up with Spain that he was getting this deprived?

"The fridge is going to get warm if you keep that up," Prussia said, making Romano realise that he had been just standing there for at least a minute already.

"Shut up! I'm still deciding!" he snapped and grabbed the first thing that he laid his eyes upon.

"Vinegar for breakfast?" Prussia asked with lifted brows.

"I'm... I'm dipping bread into it! It's home-made! It's good!" To prove his words, Romano took the remains of the bread he had fed to Gilbird and poured a generous amount of the liquid on it. He felt Prussia's eyes on him as he put the piece into his mouth. 

Hell, that tasted terrible. He had to fight against gagging and spitting everything out.

Prussia was looking at him with amusement sparkling in his eyes, and Romano knew that he wasn't buying his act for a second. It only urged him on, and he swallowed his piece of bread like a brave soldier and reached for another one.

Thankfully, Prussia decided to be merciful. "I'll go and get dressed. Enjoy your breakfast," he said, placed Gilbird on his head and got up.

As soon as he was gone, Romano ran to the sink and flushed his mouth with cold water. It didn't quite get rid of the burn on his tongue, but it made it tolerable. He turned off the water and leaned against the sink, face aflame in humiliation and anger at himself.

"Good morning, Romano!"

Romano turned around to see his brother enter the kitchen with a bright smile on his face.

"I don't see what's so damn good about it."

Veneziano stopped in the middle of reaching out to pick up a cup from the cupboard and gave him a worried look. 

"Don't tell me you're in a bad mood again. Yesterday evening was so nice," he said.

When he and Prussia had returned to the house the previous evening, Veneziano and Germany had still been out. It had taken them nearly two hours to arrive. Romano suspected it was because they had wanted to avoid the war zone and hostility at his house.

In the end, he hadn't minded too much. He and Prussia had eaten all the ice cream in his freezer and been in the middle of badmouthing the crap on TV by the time their brothers had come back. Romano could think of worse ways to spend time.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Oh, good. Because it's the last day, and it would be too bad if you were rude again like yesterday."

Romano couldn't come up with anything to claim that the previous day's bad atmosphere hadn't been his fault, so he poured himself one more glass of water and pretended to be entirely absorbed in drinking it.

"Where's the bastard? He doesn't strike me as the type to sleep in," he said.

Veneziano giggled. "He woke up hours ago, but he couldn't get up because I had wrapped all my limbs around him and was sleeping on top of him, and he didn't want to make me up."

"Like you'd wake up no matter what he did."

"He was just being nice. You could try it sometime."

"I can be nice!" Romano snapped. He could certainly be nicer than the blond potato who didn't know how to show any emotions other than anger and exasperation.

Then again...

Veneziano patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I know you can. You should just do it a bit more often, okay? Smile a little more, and the rest comes automatically!"

"There's nothing to smile about!"

"But you're happy, right?"

"And what makes you think that?"

Veneziano pursed his lips in a way that made his face appear uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Because you aren't fighting with Prussia anymore. I don't know what happened yesterday, but I can see you've made up and everything's fine again. And that's great!"

"Hmph!"

"I like it that you're getting along with Prussia."

"You only like it because then you have more time to be alone with the bastard."

"Nah," Veneziano said and smiled at him. "I like it because it's great that you have more friends. Prussia is a handful, so if you like hanging out with him, it must mean you're really good friends!"

"As if," Romano said, but it made him wonder why he was spending so much time with Prussia. He was irritating and made him so angry at times that he thought he was going to burst. And yet he liked his company. He just had yet to figure out why.

"And it's great for Prussia, too. I think he's a little lonely," Veneziano continued.

"That's just his own fault for being an ass," Romano said. Then again, the same could be applied to him, and he hated it when anyone said that. He wasn't being difficult on purpose and didn't enjoy causing so much trouble.

"Maybe," Veneziano agreed.

Veneziano quickly finished his coffee and said that he was going to get Germany and tell him that it was safe to come upstairs.

"It's not that he was afraid of anything. Well, except of making you angry just by showing his face here, and he wanted to avoid that so that everyone could have fun today, so I told him I'll go ahead and see if you're in a bad mood or a good mood. And since you're kind of in a good mood, it's okay!"

"Whatever. I'm not going to bite his head off just because he wants to have breakfast," Romano said. And it was better for Germany to have breakfast in the kitchen than for Veneziano to bring it to his bed because then it could lead to all kinds of disgusting things with food that Romano would rather not imagine.

***

They decided to visit the Verano Cemetery that day. It had been Veneziano's idea. He thought it would be fun to stroll among the graves and enjoy the quiet and the green that were so rare in a large city. Then there were the graves of famous people in history that especially Germany would appreciate.

Romano didn't visit the cemetery often. He preferred being surrounded by life and happy people, even if they often made him feel miserable because he couldn't bring himself to be like them. When he wanted some peace and quiet, he retreated to the company of tomatoes. Cemeteries were just depressing, especially for someone who had to watch his people grow old and die.

"Is this a grave or a palace?" Prussia asked as he stopped to stare at one that had a small painting of a couple decorating it.

"It belongs to an old and influential family," Veneziano explained.

"Yeah, but this grave has a garden!" Prussia said.

"It is rather impressive," Germany admitted.

Veneziano grabbed his hand. "Come on! I'll show you where some really nice people we both knew are buried!"

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave them?" Germany asked and pointed at Romano and Prussia.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be just fine! Romano knows his way around here," Veneziano said.

"That's not what worries me. Do you know your way around here?" Germany asked.

"Sure! And I've got my phone, see? If we get lost, we'll just call Romano and Prussia and ask them to come and get us!"

"Well..." Germany said, a little uncertain, but then the temptation of getting to see interesting graves and spending the day without having to babysit Prussia and avoid irritating Romano won.

"I give them an hour before we have to go and find them," Romano said as they watched their brothers go.

"You think they'll get lost? It's just a cemetery," Prussia said.

"It's huge. You need a car to reach some graves. And Veneziano is horrible with directions."

Prussia chuckled. "Poor West, but I guess he's used to it by now." He put his hands on his hips and turned around to take a look at the surrounding graves. "So, are we just gonna chill here for the rest of the day?"

"For a few hours at least."

"Boring."

"We've got nothing better to do, so I guess we can just walk around. When we get tired of that, let's go get coffee while we wait for the two losers to call us," Romano suggested.

"Sounds good."

It was a quiet day, so they didn't run into anyone as they wandered down one of the alleys, surrounded by graves from all sides. The ones they encountered first were just as gorgeous as the one Prussia had pointed out earlier. They had delicate decorations carved into them, and pillars of white and stone angels guarded the entrances.

"I don't see the point in all this. It's too excessive," Prussia said.

"I thought you'd like grandeur," Romano said.

"Nah, not me. A simple name plate on the ground is the best grave in the world. But I guess only people who are really awesome have the guts for that. Everyone else has to try to show off." 

"I don't see what it matters. The people are dead anyway," Romano.

"Yeah."

Romano glanced at Prussia from the corner of his eye. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked oddly expressionless as he walked. Whenever there was a small stone in his path, he gave it a kick and sent it flying to the bushes.

"If you break a window on any of the graves, I'm not paying for it," Romano said.

"Who the hell puts windows on a grave anyway?"

The biting tone of Prussia's voice made Romano lift his brows in surprise. What the heck was his problem all of a sudden? He thought back to what he had just said, but he couldn't understand why any of it would get under Prussia's skin.

Maybe everyone was just as confused when Romano got angry about something. How should he react? Pretend that nothing was wrong? Ask him about it? Be like that goddamn Spain or Veneziano and coo and hug Prussia until – yeah, no. Maybe he was totally inexperienced at dealing with other people's negative emotions, but he wasn't that stupid.

"Okay, what the hell is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Yeah, right," Romano said. Prussia sounded just like him all of a sudden, but he wasn't going to say that and admit that he could ever be that whiny.

Prussia laughed. "What could be wrong? I'm having an awesome walk with you through a cemetery. I love it, especially when you make that cute frown like just now."

"If you think you can get under my skin with a stupid comment like that and make me forget what we're actually talking about, dream on. So, what's wrong? Or did you just decide that now is your turn to be an ass and ruin everyone's day?"

"I'm not ruining anyone's day. I'm just thinking," Prussia said.

Romano supposed that much was right. One difference between them was that when Prussia was upset, he hid it and pretended that nothing was wrong. Romano wanted others to notice, so he preferred to throw a fit if it didn't happen fast enough to his liking. He had to admit that both approaches sounded a little pathetic now that he could think without his judgement being clouded by his feelings of hurt.

"Fine. Then think about your stupid-ass problems all you want. See if I care," he said.

Prussia stopped to stand before one of the graves and let his eyes travel up and down the gorgeous decorations.

"Did you know any of the people here?" he asked.

"There are thousands of people buried here. Of course I knew some of them." A handful of the people buried at the cemetery had probably been more than acquaintances. Romano recalled the elderly owner of one of his favourite restaurants who had died a few decades ago, a little girl from the house next door who had been in a car accident and many people he had met through work over the years. And that was just the beginning.

"Do you visit any of them?"

"What? No, not really. There are too many." Besides, a human life was so short in the eyes of someone who was immortal. He got to know so many people, and they were always gone so soon. "I'd rather visit them when they're alive anyway," he added.

"I guess so," Prussia said. "But there's nobody who was especially important to you? Someone you kind of wish would still be there no matter how many years pass?"

Romano thought about it. He'd been very fond of a handful of the members of his royal family when he had still had one, but that was that. They were good memories, and that was enough for him. 

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Getting too attached to people only leads to trouble."

"I know," Prussia admitted grumpily. Then he brightened without a warning. "But hey! If you ever die, what kind of grave would you like to have?"

"What the hell? What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Come on, don't tell me you've never thought about it!"

"Actually, I haven't. Because I'm not going to die." Well, he had thought a little about it. It wasn't common that a country was represented by two nations. Romano hadn't missed the occasional gossip about which brother should get all of Italy – and everyone wanted it to be Veneziano, of course.

But he didn't feel weak or disconnected from his lands and people, so he knew he had no reason to worry. Same for Veneziano; that crybaby would start bawling his eyes out if the thought of either one of them dying ever crossed his mind, so Romano was sure he was fine.

"Nations don't have graves anyway. What stays behind is history, landmarks, literature and whatever the heck our people came up with," he said.

Prussia kicked the ground at his feet. "I don't know. I've been thinking that I should ask West to put up something, just in case. I mean, it's not like I can ask once it's already happened, right?"

"But you said you aren't going to die," Romano said.

"Of course I'm not," Prussia said. "But even someone as awesome as me can't see the future. So, you know, just in case. Because if I die now, it won't be the death of Prussia. Prussia is kind of dead already, just like East Germany. I guess it would be kind of nice to have something just for me as a person or something."

Romano hadn't considered that. Now that he did, he found himself wondering if anyone would actually miss him if he ever died. He hoped Veneziano and Spain would, but what about everyone else? How soon would they forget him and only think of him when they were browsing through a history book? The idea of having a grave for him as a person was kind of appealing.

Prussia surprised him with a sudden pat to the back. "Got you! I was just joking! I'm not really thinking about any of that!"

"What the fuck? That's not funny!"

"Aww, look at you blush! Sorry about that. I just couldn't resist with all the graves around us. But really, I don't waste my time with stupid crap like that, so don't worry," Prussia said.

"It's not stupid," Romano grumbled. "But you are. If you're afraid of dying, you shouldn't joke about it."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Yeah, right," Romano said with roll of his eyes. "It's not like you're the only one, you idiot. I bet your brother is worried about you, so you shouldn't rub it to his face with your assholish comments."

"I don't ever bring it up with West."

"Then why with me?"

Prussia considered that for a moment. "I'm not sure," he admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I guess I feel like you aren't going to throw a fit like West would."

His words struck Romano in a way that he hadn't been expecting at all. "What, so you think I wouldn't care if you died? Is that it?"

"Would you?"

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. As he looked into Prussia's questioning eyes, Romano wanted nothing more than to say that he would. Despite his crude jokes, or maybe because of them, it was obvious that his possible death bothered Prussia. Life and death were out of Romano's hands, but at least he wanted to let Prussia know that he would miss him if he ever died – and he was startled to realise just how much he would miss him if that ever happened. 

But he knew he couldn't say that. Even though his heart protested against it and wanted him to have the courage to say what he meant this one time, he knew was going to say no.

"Well, of –" he started, already loathing himself, but then he was cut off when his cell phone started playing Tarantella.

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"Romano! Help! We turned just one corner while we were talking or maybe it was two or three but we didn't notice where we were going and now we can't find our way back! Please come and get us before it gets dark! Please, please!"

"It's not so bad," Romano heard Germany say in the background. "If we just keep walking to that direction –"

"No, we can't! This place is huge and we're just going to end up walking in circles and then night will fall and we'll be here all lone when it's dark! I don't want to be at a cemetery when it's dark! Save us, Romano!"

"Why does it always have to be me to get you out of trouble?" Romano snarled, but in truth he was glad for the distraction.

He asked Veneziano to give the phone to Germany because his brother was too hysterical to say anything sensible about their location. After Germany had completely mangled the pronunciation of the names on the graves around them, Romano had at least a vague idea about where they might be. Some of the names Germany had mentioned rang a bell, and he was pretty sure he had been friends with that family around the beginning of the 20th century.

"Okay, we're coming. Don't let my idiot brother wander off and get even more lost," he said.

"Didn't take that hour you predicted," Prussia pointed out.

Romano shoved his phone into his pocket and shrugged. "That just shows how much they suck. Come on, we need at least twenty minutes there and back, and I'm starting to get hungry."

They managed to find their brothers with relative ease, after which they all went to have lunch at a restaurant that Romano picked. The atmosphere couldn't have been more different from the previous day. Nobody was in a bad mood, and Romano concentrated more on his food than snapping at the others.

He was glad that the topic had been dropped, but he couldn't stop thinking about everything that Prussia had said. Until now, he hadn't even realised how much his future worried the former nation. Romano felt like a failure somehow. Prussia had made him feel better the previous evening, but he didn't know how to return the favour. And he very much wanted to. It bothered him to see Prussia upset.

I just want to be a good host, he thought grumpily. Yeah, he just wanted to make up for his bad behaviour the other day. That's all.

After lunch, they went to the Roman Forum so that Germany could stare at some rocks and ruined buildings and admire them. He had brought along a little booklet from which he kept reading out loud whenever they stopped to look at something. Needless to say, Romano and Prussia fled as soon as they had the chance.

“Man, I can't believe him. He comes to this city and then he acts like the only places worth seeing are ruins and monuments,” Prussia complained as they found themselves a bench under a tree near the public toilets.

“Did you expect something else?”

“Well, no, but he's still boring as heck.”

Romano hummed in agreement, but in truth he had to admit that Germany's enthusiasm for Grandpa's things was almost flattering. The fact that Prussia didn't share that interest might have insulted and worried him if they hadn't had that conversation the previous evening, but he knew now that there were more important things in the world. Prussia didn't care about the remains of a dead empire, but he cared about Romano.

“Next time I come here, I'm not taking West along. Then we can just eat and party and check out some chicks all day long.”

“Yeah, like I'm letting you touch any of my people.”

“Who said anything about touching? Looking is enough for me. Most of the time.”

“Looking is bad enough!” Romano snapped. “Especially when it's one of you bastards.”

Prussia chuckled. “Aww, come on! Just admit you're jealous!”

“W-what? Why would I ever be jealous? Don't be stupid!” Romano could feel his face grow red with anger and embarrassment. How dare that asshole even suggest such a thing? He would never be jealous of –

“Of course you'd be jealous if I waltzed here and took all your hot women,” Prussia said, giving him a funny look.

“Oh,” Romano said. He suddenly felt very stupid. Of course that was what Prussia had meant. Why on Earth had his mind immediately jumped to the most illogical conclusion?

“What? What did you think I meant?”

“Exactly what you said! But it's stupid because there's no way an idiot like you could ever score here! Italian women have far more class!” Romano crossed his arms on his chest and turned to glare to the other direction so that Prussia wouldn't see his face aflame with colour.

“Well, we'll see about that next time, won't we? And if not the women, I can always try the men,” Prussia replied.

Romano snorted, but he couldn't stay angry for long. After all, Prussia had said that he would be coming back. That had to mean that the weekend hadn't been a total catastrophe despite Romano's shitty behaviour the previous day. That much at least was reassuring.

“Do you think our stupid brothers have finally got enough of this place?” he asked.

“Don't know, but I'm ready to go back. Let's grab something sweet on the way. Like ice cream or cake.”

Romano nodded. “I know a really good bakery.”

They started the journey to find their brothers. It was a little hopeless since there were so many paths and so much area to cover, but neither of them suggested calling them. Romano simply enjoyed walking around and listening to Prussia's strange comments about everything around them.

“Wow, look at that. That couple has dressed their twins like mirror images of each other,” Prussia said.

Romano tried to spot them in the crowd. “Where? I can't see anything.”

“Wrong direction! Over here!” 

Prussia caught Romano's shoulders and forced him around so that he'd see the children. He did, but his attention wasn't really in them anymore. He generally didn't like it when people touched him out of nowhere, even if it was Veneziano or Spain. Prussia was all too close to his liking all of a sudden.

And the idiot didn't even seem to notice anything. This wasn't like the previous evening when they had been riding the Vespa and Prussia had needed to hang onto him. That had been logical; that had been okay.

“Man, those kids are going to be messed up later, huh?”

“You aren't in a position to criticize anyone. Look what happened to your brother when you raised him,” Romano said.

Prussia frowned in thought. “That's an interesting paradox you just proposed. I'm awesome, so I'm flawless. And yet something went wrong with West. I don't get it.”

“Here's a thought. Maybe you aren't as perfect as you think?”

“Nah! Listen to yourself! Of course I'm perfect!” Prussia said and laughed.

Without a warning, some kind of marching music started playing.

“That's your ringtone?” Romano asked in surprise. He would have rather expected some kind of horrible German metal song that made any normal person's ears bleed.

“My anthem is the best! I'm going to make a heavy metal version of it one of these days.” 

“Can you even play anything?”

“You'd be surprised! I can play the flute and – ”

“How about you just answer the damn phone first?”

“I like listening to it,” Prussia said with a pout but let go of Romano's shoulders and dug into his pocket to fish out his phone. Romano took a step back, grateful for the fact that the idiot had finally removed his hands. He could have pushed him away right in the beginning, he knew, but he hadn't. It was just so that they wouldn't get into another argument. Yes.

“Yeah, yeah, we'll be there soon,” Prussia said before putting his phone away. “West and Italy are already waiting for us at the exit.”

“Then let's get going. We still have to pick up the cake.”

By the time they returned to Romano's house, it was already nearing six o'clock in the evening. Everyone was tired, so they decided that they would just have quick showers, watch TV and order pizzas later when it was time to have dinner.

"This was such a fun day!" Veneziano announced when they were eating. "Though I wish we hadn't walked so much..."

"Some exercise is always good," Germany pointed out.

"But my feet hurt! Can you rub them later if I rub yours?"

Germany ignored Veneziano's comment and turned to look at Romano. "He's right about one thing, and it's that this was a wonderful day. Thank you for letting me see your city," he said.

Romano turned his eyes to his plate as he felt his face grow hot. Fucking hell, why was the bastard talking to him like that? It made him so uncomfortable and yet a little happy, and he hated that. He didn't want to be happy because of anything Germany said to him, dammit!

"Don't fucking mention it. I only did it because Veneziano forced me to," he mumbled as he stared at his unfinished slice of pizza.

"West, you're making him all embarrassed. Only I can do that, so cut it out," Prussia said, picked up an olive from his pizza and threw it at Germany.

"Don't play with your food," Germany said.

"Yeah, it's better when you eat it," Veneziano chimed in.

"Especially since I paid for it!" Romano snapped.

"How much were they? We'll of course pay our share," Germany said and got up so that he could get his wallet, but Romano waved at him to sit down again.

"It's my house, so I'm providing the damn dinner."

"But –"

"No buts, bastard! Like I'm letting you pay and then tell everyone that I was a bad host!"

Veneziano grabbed Germany's arm and finally made him sit down. "Romano is trying to be nice to you, Germany. Don't ruin it," he said.

"Alright. Thank you," Germany said awkwardly.

Veneziano and Germany finished eating first, so they left the kitchen and went to watch more TV. Romano was still finishing his beer, and he wanted dessert.

"You up for some cake?" he asked and got up.

"Yeah!"

Romano opened the fridge and took out the cake. He turned around –

"Hey, do you also have milk or –"

– and nearly slammed into Prussia who had come to take a peek into the fridge over his shoulder. The cake fell from Romano's hands, the plate shattering into pieces, but he barely noticed.

Prussia was so close; their faces were mere inches apart. Romano was sure he could feel the warmth of Prussia's body, and his scent told him that he had used his goddamn shampoo before dinner. The stupid bastard, how dare he do that and smell so good instead of buying his own stuff?

And... what now? Why weren't they already apart and blaming each other for this stupidity? Romano looked up into Prussia's eyes, listening to his own heartbeat and no longer knowing what he wanted. Would he fight back if Prussia lowered his face just a little and pressed himself against him?

He wasn't even that shocked when he realised the thought didn't bother him that much. Or that he wasn't trying to run away when Prussia's hands came dangerously close to grabbing his waist.

But then Prussia took a step back, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a hoarse chuckle. "Oops, there goes our cake."

"Y-yeah," Romano said, trying to suppress the pang of disappointment inside him. He knelt down to pick up the broken plate and the ruined cake so that Prussia wouldn't see how red his face was.

Veneziano popped his head into the kitchen. “Hey, what happened? We heard a crash. Are you fighting again?”

“No, I dropped the stupid cake.”

“Aww, too bad. I wanted a piece, too!” Veneziano said. He came over to help Romano clean up the mess.

“I think I'll just... go see what West is doing,” Prussia said and fled without waiting for an answer.

For the rest of the evening, Romano pretended that absolutely nothing had happened. Prussia did the same, but Romano couldn't have cared less. He was too absorbed in his thoughts that kept circling around the same question no matter how hard he tried to distract himself.

Why had Prussia not kissed him? The moment had been perfect and for a short while he had been sure he'd do it... Dammit, it wasn't that Romano especially wanted Prussia to kiss him or anything, but... It wasn't like he would have punched him and screamed no or anything. Probably.

Prussia was the kind of person who always took what he wanted. Based on his egoistical stories of his exploits, he was not above of just grabbing someone and having his way with them. So, why not him? Was he not good enough? Did Prussia not want him?

It shouldn't have mattered. Not one bit. But no matter how many times he told this to himself as he lay in his bed that night, kicking his sheet, it didn't help.

***

Prussia had his hands crossed behind his head and kept staring at the dark ceiling above him. It had been a pretty close call that evening. He had no idea what had suddenly come over him, but he was glad he had got a hold of himself before he had done something really stupid.

Man, he was pretty sure Romano would have punched his teeth down his throat if he had got any closer to him. And then they would have soon been tearing each other's hair out, and Romano would have banned both him and Germany from Rome for good. Hell, he probably wouldn't have said a single word to him ever again after that.

Good thing he possessed such finely honed self-control that he had totally saved the situation. Yeah, everything was perfect. He had even done a super good job at pretending that nothing had happened in the first place.

And nothing had happened. He had just been... momentarily confused and thought that he wanted to kiss Romano. Which was utterly stupid.

There was a loud bang outside his room and a pained groan that revealed that Italy had once more hit his head on his way to Germany's room. Prussia rolled his eyes in the dark and hoped that if the two of them decided to get up to something, they'd have the decency to at least be quiet about it. He was feeling tired from all the walking that day, so he didn't like the idea of having to escape and leave his bed in order to avoid hearing his kid brother in action.

“You should try to be a little more careful. Did you hurt yourself?” Germany asked.

“No, this happens all the time. I'm used to it,” Italy replied.

There was the sound of the bed creaking as Italy hopped to join Germany. Even with both doors closed, Prussia could hear all too well what the two of them were doing and talking about. Thankfully they weren't getting it on but only discussed the day and how much fun they had had.

“Did you notice anything odd about Romano and Prussia after dinner?” Italy asked.

“Not really. Why?”

“They've been getting along so well lately, but they didn't say a word to each other when we were watching TV. Romano even spoke to you but not Prussia.”

“Maybe they were just tired. Or maybe they had an argument. They can both make a big deal out of nothing.”

“But that's what they were doing yesterday! They made up, so it should be fine now. I'm worried; I don't want to see this weekend end on a bad note for them,” Italy said.

“It's really none of our business. They're old enough to deal with their problems on their own.”

Yeah, and we don't have any problems, Prussia thought in irritation. He decided that he didn't want to keep lying there and listening to his brother and his boyfriend talk about his social life. Getting up on his tired feet and going to grab at drink in the kitchen was a far preferable course of action.

He didn't bother turning on the light, figuring that he knew his way around well enough. After pouring himself a glass of juice, he took a seat at the table and tried to analyse the situation in his mind.

What the heck had he been thinking that evening? He didn't usually go around wanting to kiss people out of nowhere unless he was drunk. He just liked to boast and tease. Sure, Romano was a decent guy, but he wasn't interested in him, was he?

No, he wasn't. Better not even think along those lines. And he had especially better not keep replaying the scene in his mind and thinking that if it happened again, he just might go for it. It could only end in disaster.


	15. Chapter 15

The hands in his hair slowly travelled down his neck, sending shivers through him and making him feel clumsy in comparison. He was always rough and fast, never waiting to get what he wanted. But this time it was different because he wasn't the one in charge; he was being led, and he relished every moment of it.

"Ah!" he moaned when a kiss was planted on his throat, and he loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to claim that mouth with his, but the feeling of those lips and tongue going down his skin was too wonderful to resist.

He arched his back as one of the hands traced down to his chest and brushed against his nipple.

"I told you I could do this right."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Shouldn't have doubted you. But hurry up already."

"Shut up. I'm deciding the pace here, dammit." 

He chuckled, but then his breath was caught in his throat when Romano's hand finally travelled lower to grab his length and –

"Prussia! Wake up!"

Prussia groaned and rolled over to his side, wondering where Romano's hands had suddenly gone and why Germany was yelling at him when he was having awesome sex.

Something in the situation wasn't making sense, so Prussia groggily sat up in his bed. He was alone, he realised, and he was in his room in the basement and not in the gorgeous double bedroom in a huge summer house in the Italian countryside.

"Prussia! For the last time –"

"Yeah, what is it?" he called out. He glanced at his alarm clock. It was only six in the morning. Why the hell should he be up at this hour?

"I have to be in a meeting in a minute. You have to take care of the dogs today," Germany said.

"I know! Did you honestly ruin my awesome dream just to tell me that?"

"You forgot the last time I didn't remind you. Please, open the door and come out so that I can give you all the instructions."

"Fucking hell," Prussia muttered as he got off the bed and walked to the door. Just as he had unlocked it, he realised that something didn't feel quite right. He glanced down at himself and then promptly threw himself against the door when Germany was trying to push it open.

"What are you doing?" Germany asked, his voice growing even louder with his decreasing patience.

"Give me a moment, West! I'm coming in a minute!"

If Prussia hadn't been so flustered, he might have cackled at his choice of words. Right now, however, he was too busy scanning his room in search of clothing that would hide his little – no, his humongous problem, as he liked to think. Sadly, the only pants in sight were his jeans, and they wouldn't really help.

Eventually he just grabbed the closest shirt he could find and tied it around his waist. That would have to do until he had the time to deal with the matter. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, but there were things that he'd rather not let his little brother see.

"Okay, what's so special about the dogs today that you had to drag me up?" he asked as he opened the door and walked past Germany into the kitchen.

"You remember what the vet said about Blackie. The food has to be served exactly at the right time, and no over-eating or treats. I have written the instructions on a note on the fridge," Germany said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Remember, no treats. The last time you gave them too much to eat, they vomited in the living room."

"Well, you should teach your dogs not to beg like that! They're too cute for their own good!"

Germany sighed in a way that told he knew it was a lost battle and that he'd be glad if the dogs were still alive when he came back. He reminded Prussia once more about everything he had to do, grabbed his car keys and hurried outside so that he wouldn't be late to the meeting at the Reichstag.

"Finally," Prussia groaned and stomped back to the basement. He tossed aside the extra shirt and stared at himself in irritation. Goddammit. This was the third time already.

It had started after their weekend in Rome. On the first occasion, he had dreamt of slamming Romano against the fridge in his kitchen and kissing him, like he had wanted to do on that failure of an evening. The second time, they had been doing it on Romano's Vespa. While Romano was driving it. Prussia had no idea how that was physically possible, but it had been damn hot. This last time they had been in bed, which was almost boring in comparison.

And... and Romano had been on top every time! Prussia would have very much liked to know what the hell was up with his imagination. He had always thought that Romano would be terrible in bed, blushing and cursing and complaining all the way through. The stubborn but skilled lover who had topped him in his dreams couldn't reflect reality, right?

Only Spain would know, but Prussia didn't want to ask. In fact, he didn't even want to be thinking about Romano and sex together.

What had happened in Romano's kitchen had been on his mind constantly ever since they had come back home. There were times when he wanted to smack himself for backing down. He should have just taken what he wanted and seen what would happen. He was the best kisser in the world, so Romano would soon have been begging for more, Prussia was sure of it.

But to be perfectly honest, he didn't know what he would have done if that had happened, and that was why he had backed off. Prussia had had almost nothing but casual relationships with no strings attached for most of his lifetime. That was how he preferred it. There were only two people he had ever wanted to spend a longer time with, and one was dead and the other in love with someone else.

Sleeping with Romano was a much more appealing thought than he could have ever imagined. What wasn't equally awesome was the fact that there would be the morning after. Having a random one-night stand with him would ruin everything.

Taking him to bed would be the end of the friendship they had built, and Prussia wasn't sure he wanted to give that up for just one night. He rather liked Romano and wanted to keep hanging out with him.

So, sex wasn't an option, no matter what his body was telling him.

"Figures. Just my luck," Prussia grumbled. He glanced at his bed and wondered if he should go back to sleep for a few more hours or if he was going to do something productive that early. Maybe he should start the day with a healthy amount of self-love since it would be a shame to leave the job unfinished.

But first he'd send Romano a text, he figured. The two of them hadn't been in contact since the weekend in Rome. It was high time to let Romano know that what had happened in the kitchen wasn't bothering Prussia at all and that everything could go on like before.

And the best way to do that was to make no mention of that incident at all and just pretend that nothing had happened. Yeah, great idea! Smirking, Prussia grabbed his phone and sent Romano a message in which he wished him a good morning and complained about what a slave driver Germany was being again.

There, that should do it. And now something else entirely.

***

Romano groaned when he heard his phone go off. Had he set the alarm? Was he supposed to do something today?

Not bothering to open his eyes, he reached out and fumbled around his nightstand. Where was that stupid phone? Oh, there – dammit, he dropped it! And the beeping stopped as well. Maybe he had broken the damn thing.

He forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes. Light was pouring in through the closed curtains, but it was still a little dim, so it had to be early. Romano threw his covers aside and took a peek under his bed to see where his phone had disappeared to.

Oh, there it was. He reached out to grab it, but he stopped when he noticed something else under the bed. After a moment of hesitation, he picked it up as well.

It was the miniature Colosseum Prussia had given him. It was broken; Romano had thrown it on the floor a couple of days earlier. A chunk was missing from it, but he was sure he could find it and glue it back if he felt like it.

“If” being the most important word. Romano most certainly didn't feel like crawling around his room and looking for the missing piece of the bastard's crap gift. He should just throw the whole thing in the trash. He didn't want gifts from assholes who made him confused and then didn't know when to kiss him.

For now, he just put the miniature back on his nightstand and flipped open his phone to check the damage. To his slight surprise, he saw that he had received a message. That was why the beeping had stopped, not because the phone was broken.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw that the text was from Prussia. He bit his lip, not daring to open the message right away. Did he even want to know what the bastard had to say? He hadn't said anything to him in days. Maybe he had just sent him a message to let him know that it would be better if they didn't stay in touch anymore.

But it could be something else as well. He knew he wasn't strong enough to just ignore the possibility. He had to know.

"Let's see what the asshole wants," he muttered in order to give his determination a boost and hit the button to open the message.

_Mornin romano wow u got_  
no idea wat west did 2day  
i had t wake up at 6 2 luk  
afte da dogz man tat sux 

Romano stared at his phone and read the message several times. Not a single word about what had happened. Was it completely irrelevant to Prussia? Hadn't he noticed anything? Or maybe nothing had actually happened and Romano had just imagined the whole thing. Maybe he was the only one who had felt anything.

He suddenly felt like an idiot. That had to be it. He had just been reading way too much into what had been a complete accident.

Romano grabbed his pillow and buried his face into it. He sucked! This was so embarrassing! Good that he hadn't spoken about it with anyone. He could just pretend that everything was fine and nobody would ever have to know that he had wanted to kiss Prussia of all people. Yeah, that would work.

He glared at his phone, not sure what type of reply he should write. He kind of wanted to say something angry so that Prussia would notice that he was upset, but if he did that, Prussia might ask what was wrong. And Romano never ever wanted to tell him the truth.

He slammed the phone shut and put it on his night stand. He'd reply later. First he wanted coffee.

***

Romano had thought that his thoughts would be much clearer after some breakfast and that things would quickly return to normal, but going into the kitchen had only made everything worse. The stupidest thoughts kept popping into his head, such as how he had fed Gilbird right at this spot, how Prussia had sat there half naked or how having him stand so close to him by the fridge had made him oblivious to everything except his own heartbeat in his ears.

He had to stop thinking about that. It was pointless and would only make him miserable. And what the hell was wrong with him anyway? Why was he suddenly thinking about Prussia that way? He didn't even like him! He hated him, didn't he?

But Romano wasn't stupid. Just because he was terrible at showing his true feelings to others didn't mean that he was oblivious to them. No matter how much he wanted to believe the opposite, he didn't hate Prussia. How could he hate someone who liked spending time with him, made him feel like he wasn't a complete loser and sometimes understood him better than anyone else?

The last point was especially important to him. Veneziano and Spain meant well, but they were both so infuriatingly perfect and happy that Romano often felt that they just didn't see how deep his problems were rooted. Explaining it to them made him feel even worse.

Prussia wasn't like that. His words could be so vicious and blunt that they left Romano missing the reassuring hugs and comfort his brother and Spain gave him. However, when it came right down to it, the way Prussia treated him always made him feel better in the end. It was like he was a step closer to accomplishing something when he was with him.

But even more than that, Prussia made him feel like he was needed. When the former nation avoided looking at him and spoke of his possible death or how he served no purpose in the modern world, Romano wanted to do something to make him feel better. It was a new experience for him; he was used to always being the one who was comforted, never the other way around.

He liked that. The more he thought about it (even though he didn't want to, dammit!), the more he wished he could always be there when Prussia was having a hard time. And he wanted to do it right, not just by standing there and insulting him because he didn't have the courage to say anything else.

"God, I suck," he muttered and let his forehead hit the kitchen table. How had this happened? How could he have let himself fall for a potato sucker who wasn't that much better than Germany? This was so wrong! And his treacherous feelings had just crept upon him and attacked with no warning!

"Morning, Romano. Did you not sleep well?"

Romano looked up when he heard Veneziano enter the kitchen. He only mumbled as a reply and watched his brother go and get some coffee.

"So, what are you planning to do today?" Veneziano asked.

"I don't know. Look after my tomatoes."

"That's nice," Veneziano said with a smile, then took a sip of his coffee. "I think I'll try to paint something. When we were at the cemetery with Germany and Prussia, I saw this gorgeous tomb that I think was really inspiring!"

Romano suddenly felt hollow. Even after all of Prussia's rambling about his possible fate, he hadn't acknowledged that it could really happen. That Prussia could die. It had been such a distant idea, something that might not come true and even if it did, it wouldn't bother him too much.

He wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup and stared down at it. What if it really happened? What would he do? Was there anything he could do to stop it?

"Hey, what's wrong? You look so pale all of a sudden," Veneziano said.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure? You've kind of been grumpier than usual the past few days." Then a small, knowing smile took over Veneziano's features. "It's because Prussia left, isn't it?"

"No!"

"Aww, it is!"

"It's not! Shut up! Shut up! I don't –"

Romano stopped before he could finish, startled by the panic and anger he heard in his voice. He hadn't yelled at Veneziano in that tone in a long time, and never over something like this.

His brother had noticed it as well and was staring at him with wide, worried eyes. Then he reached out and took one of Romano's hands into his over the table.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Romano said, but there was no effort behind his words. He felt terrible, scared and confused, and he wanted to share that burden with someone. At the same time he didn't know if he'd live through it if he let anyone see something so personal and raw.

"You never get this upset when it's nothing," Veneziano pointed out.

"Well, this is the first time, then! Because nothing is wrong, and it especially has nothing to do with the potato bastard's brother!" Saying that was guaranteed to make Veneziano realise the truth right away, and that was Romano counted on. Please, please let his stupid brother keep prodding until he discovered what was going on.

"Did something happen with Prussia? You were both so strange that last evening," Veneziano said. His eyes brightened all of a sudden. "Oh! I know! You finally kissed him, and now you miss him because he's gone!"

If only! That would have been so much more preferable. And what did Veneziano mean by “finally” anyway?

"I didn't kiss him," Romano muttered.

"Aww," Veneziano said in disappointment. "But did you want to?"

Romano simply stared at his coffee cup in silence.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because he didn't want to, dammit!" Romano snapped. If he had, he would have done it himself. He was the one who went for what he wanted and didn't think of the consequences. Out of the two of them, it should have been Prussia to make the first move.

"How do you know? Did he say that?" 

"I just know, so shut up."

Veneziano frowned in worry. "Maybe you should talk to him."

"Yeah, like that's a good idea! It was a one-time thing! What makes you think I'd ever want to have anything more to do with that loser who sucks and is probably going to die anyway? I hate him! I fucking hope he fades away already so that we don't have to keep looking at his stupid face!"

"Romano..." Veneziano said in a quiet voice. "You don't mean that."

"I do!" Romano snapped, but his voice broke, and the words sounded more like a sob. He snatched his hand from Veneziano's and wiped his eyes angrily. Goddammit, he was crying again, and it was such a stupid reason and he didn't want to! Who the hell cried just because a bastard didn't want to kiss them?

Veneziano got up and walked around he table. He threw his arms over Romano's shoulders and pulled him into a loose hug. 

Romano scowled but didn't fight back.

"It's okay to be scared," Veneziano said. He pressed his cheek against Romano's back. "I think Germany was pretty scared when he realised he wanted to be together with me. If someone as strong and loud as him feel that way, there's nothing wrong with it."

"I'm nothing like him!" Really, the mere idea was disgusting.

"I think you should just talk to Prussia. He can be really nice when he wants to. I'm sure he won't be mean if he doesn't like you back," Veneziano said.

"I'm not doing it," Romano said. No way. He could never confront Prussia about that. It wasn't his laughter or mocking words that frightened him the most; he was much more afraid of the fact that he might be rejected and told that Prussia didn't want him, that he wasn't good enough.

"Why not?" Veneziano asked.

"What would it matter? If he fades away in a few decades, it would have all been for nothing."

Veneziano was quiet for a long time. Romano was starting to grow impatient with his silence and shifted on his seat, but he didn't want to shove him away. Having his brother that close was too comforting right now.

"I know what it's like when you lose someone who's important to you," Veneziano finally said. "It hurts so much that at first you think you can never love again, that you'd rather be alone forever than go through so much pain a second time."

Romano couldn't bring himself to say anything. His throat was too tight. He thought about Prussia and his face when he had admitted that he didn't know what would become of him. It felt like someone had wrapped their fingers around his heart and was slowly applying more and more pressure.

Romano didn't want to know what it would be like if those fingers ever clenched into a fist. He didn't want to love Prussia if he couldn't be sure that he'd never die. But maybe it was already too late. He wouldn't describe the feeling inside him as love yet, but he knew it could develop into that if he gave it a chance.

"But you know," Veneziano said. "I think it's really worth it. If you never take any risks, you're never going to experience anything wonderful."

"That's total crap," Romano said, but he knew Veneziano was right. He wanted to be happy again, and he wanted to be with someone, but at the same time he was so frightened of all the things that could go wrong that it was just easier to stay in his shell.

"And I don't think Prussia is going to die. He's too stubborn to die any other way but on battlefield, and I doubt Germany is taking his country to war ever again," Veneziano said said brightly.

Romano supposed that much was true. At least he hoped it was. Slowly wasting away was the worst possible fate he could imagine for Prussia. If he had to die, it had better be in a blaze of glory that would be remembered for centuries to come.

"I'm still not talking to him," he said.

"Then maybe I should –"

"No! You stay out of this! I'll disown you if you say a single word to him!"

"But I want to help you! And if you won't do it yourself, what choice do I have?"

Romano shoved Veneziano's arms away and wriggled free. "It's none of your business! I can handle this myself!" he snapped.

"You just admitted that you're just going to keep sulking and feeling miserable. How is that going to help?"

"I'll figure something out! You just keep your mouth shut! And don't tell your bastard boyfriend either!"

"Alright, I won't say anything," Veneziano promised, but he didn't look happy about it. Romano was starting to wonder if getting his troubles off his chest had been worth it. Now he had to worry about his brother accidentally blurting something out at precisely the wrong moment, as he always did.

"By the way, have you heard from Spain lately?" Veneziano asked.

"Not really. Why?"

Veneziano fidgeted with his fingers. "I tried calling him several times yesterday, but he just wouldn't pick up the phone. I'm a little worried."

"He's probably too busy screwing France," Romano said with a snort.

"But I hear they've been having some trouble. Maybe you should call him. I'm sure he'll pick up if he sees it's you."

Now that Romano thought about it, Veneziano kind of had a point. He hadn't heard from Spain in a while, which was a little unusual. He had just been so occupied with his thoughts about Prussia that he hadn't even noticed. If something was wrong, it had to be _really_ wrong because Spain just wasn't the kind of person who sulked to himself about anything.

"Fine, fine, I guess I'll give him a call later," he said.

***

Prussia was in the middle of having his favourite cereal and chocolate milk for breakfast when the doorbell rang. All three dogs immediately ran into the hall, barking like the world was about to end.

"Shut up, you lot! You never do this when West is around!" Prussia scolded them as he tried to push his way past the dogs that were trying to jump up against the door.

"Not buying anything," he said when he opened the door, but to his great surprise it wasn't a salesman standing there.

France gave him half a smile. "May I come in?"

"What the heck are you doing here?" Prussia asked as he stepped aside to let France in. It was Thursday morning. Didn't real nations like France have work to do? "If you're looking for West, you're a few hours late. He's at the Reichstag."

"I just felt like dropping by and saying hello," France replied.

"Planning on cheating on Spain?" Prussia couldn't say he was a very morally sound person, but even he drew the line at helping his best friend cheat on his other best friend. Then again, he supposed France was even less likely to do it. He was such a hopeless romantic under his sexually liberated exterior.

"No, not quite."

Prussia pursed his lips in thought. Something wasn't right here.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked as they entered the kitchen.

France took one look at the cereal (with 30% more sugar!), cookies and chocolate milk on the table before shaking his head. "No, thank you. I had breakfast already."

"Your loss," Prussia said and went back to eating his cereal. Or at leas the tried to. "Aww, it's all soggy now! You sure picked a great moment to drop by!" 

He put the bowl of cereal on the floor for the dogs to eat and grabbed a cookie. "So, what's on your mind? I know I rock, but I still don't think you'd just randomly come here in the middle of the week without a good reason," he said.

"I suppose I'll go straight to the point," France said. "I broke up with Spain."

"Haha! Sure! Real funny," Prussia said and shoved the cookie into his mouth.

"No, I'm serious. I really did."

Prussia stared at France as he chewed and tried to digest this piece of news. Now that his attention had been caught, he recognised how forlorn and tired France seemed. His hair wasn't quite as perfect as usual and the shirt and the tie weren't a very good match, as if he hadn't put much effort into picking his clothes for the day.

"Okay," he said. "Why the hell did you do that? You two were so in love that it made me a little sick to see it."

"I know. It was wonderful," France said with a sad smile.

"Then what was the problem?"

"It was a little too wonderful. Look at me, I'm gorgeous! Even if I'm everyone's big brother in Europe, I'm still young and virile and I shouldn't chain myself to just one person, right? But lately all I can think about is Spain, and that frightens me. I'm just not ready for a commitment like that, so I decided it would be for the best to end it right there," France explained. He looked intently at Prussia, waiting for his reaction.

Prussia shrugged. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

"I was partly hoping you'd say you understand my decision."

"Why? Because I'm even less into relationships than you, and you want me to pat you on the back and say you did the awesome thing? Seems to me that if you came all the way from Paris just for that, you aren't so sure yourself," Prussia said.

France shifted on his seat. "It was the right thing to do," he insisted.

"Sure, whatever." Prussia was the master of self-delusion to the point that he could fool himself into believing he was having an awesome time even before his tears had dried. France, on the other hand, was terrible at it, so Prussia could see through his act right away.

"And how did Spain take it?" he continued.

"He said he understands."

"Yeah, because he's not a total ass like you."

France opened his mouth to object, but Prussia wouldn't let him even start.

"This is why I think it's a terrible idea for friends to start dating. Hell, what are we going to do now? This means the end of lazy weekends at Spain's house and clubbing all over Europe. Am I going to have to split my time between the two of you and then listen to you both bitch at me about your failed relationship? That's not cool," he said and crossed his arms on his chest, sulking.

"The three of us have been through worse," France pointed out.

"You still suck. I hope you'll realise what a mistake you've made and end up really miserable. Maybe Spain will start dating some hot hunk and will never even think about you again."

"Aren't you being just a little unfair here?"

"No. Spain is my friend, too. You're the one who dumped him even though everything was perfect. So fuck you," Prussia said and took a gulp of his chocolate milk.

France sighed. "I didn't want to hurt him, you know. Spain is wonderful, sweet, compassionate, funny, handsome –"

"And yet you still dumped him."

"I told you why!" France snapped, starting to sound a little desperate now. "I had no choice! I thought you of all people would see that. You avoid committed relationships as well."

"Yeah, and that's why I don't get into them in the first place. I even avoid one-night stands when it would only lead to trouble," Prussia said.

"Oh, like with whom?"

"...nobody. That was just an example."

"You paused before answering. So, there's someone you're interested in but won't approach. Don't try to deny it. I know everything when it comes to the matters of the heart," France said.

"You just fucked up your own love life, so stay the hell away from mine, okay?"

"Who is it?"

"None of your business."

"Ah, so there is someone?"

"You're just trying to change the subject so that we'll stop talking about how much you suck!"

"No, I'm trying to help you. For a long time now, I've felt that you need to get together with someone. At least try it out. If you care about this person so much that you're choosing not to jump into bed with them, they must be special," France said.

Oh, Romano was special, alright. He was fun to hang out with when he was in a good mood. And when he wasn't, Prussia loved to poke at him until he got him to scowl in a way that showed he was beginning to feel better but didn't want to admit it. He even loved those moments when Romano cried before him; there weren't many people who trusted him with something so personal.

Romano never looked at him with pity in his eyes. The glares he sent to Prussia's direction were a challenge. He could almost hear him tell him to get up and not feel sorry for himself or he'd come and beat him up. It made Prussia's blood roar. He wanted to fight against the odds, and somehow, the thought of Romano being disappointed in him felt even worse than defeat.

And he didn't want to lose that. Hearing what France had done was yet another piece of evidence that showed that friendship and sex didn't mix.

"Nope. Sorry. I'm not taking advice from you right now," he said.

"When have you?"

"That's my point. Just imagine where I'd be if I ever listened to you."

"Fine. Suit yourself. I'm not in the mood for arguing with you right now," France said and threw up his hands.

Prussia mulled the situation over in his head. To be honest, he wasn't sure what to do. France had done something that even he could tell was stupid, but if he wanted to mess up his life, he had the right to do that. And he was his friend.

"Now that you've made it all the way here, do you want to go drinking or something? No place is open in the morning, but we could hit the supermarket and get some cheap beer for starters. I'll get you amazingly drunk today, and tomorrow I'll check up on Spain and do the same with him," he suggested.

"Thanks, but I'm not really in the mood for that either."

"That's just one more reason to go."

"No, really. But if you care to join me for coffee somewhere where they serve something drinkable, that would be nice."

Prussia shrugged. "If that's what you want, sure."

They went into a café that Prussia picked, not because he liked it at all but because he knew Germany liked it, and he supposed that his brother's tastes might work better when it came to improving France's mood. The café sold some foreign delicacies, which might come in handy if France was feeling picky and didn't want a piece of Black Forest Cake.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Prussia asked and stuffed a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth.

“I'll just go on with my life.”

“Does that mean you'll jump to bed with the first willing person?”

“Well, if that person is gorgeous and –”

“Do you think it'll help you forget Spain?”

The dreamy smile on France's face died. “You're being quite thorny today,” he said.

“That was an honest question.” Prussia turned his little plate around so that he'd have access to the other side of his piece of cake. He liked to save the little marzipan flower last, so he was eating the cake around it. “Oh, and I'm not willing, just so you know.”

“I wasn't going to ask you.”

“Good. Because I'm not helping you cheat.”

France sighed in exasperation. “I'm no longer together with Spain.”

“That's what your dick says because it's not used to a committed relationship,” Prussia said. He pointed his spoon at France's chest. “But in there you're still with Spain. You just have to realise that listening to your dick instead of your heart was a stupid move.”

“You're horrible!” France snapped and slammed his cup of coffee against the table so hard that some of his the drink spilled. He cursed under his breath and grabbed a napkin in an effort to stop any coffee from dripping onto his trousers.

Once done, France tossed the napkin at the table and huffed. “And you're really not in the position to talk. You aren't even making a move to get the person you want.”

“I thought I said I didn't want to talk about that.”

“It's Hungary, right?” France asked, and the smugness in his voice made Prussia's cake taste bitter. “You've always had a thing for her. It's so regrettable that she's so happy with Austria, isn't it?”

Prussia gritted his teeth, knowing that France was being an ass just to get back at him. He also knew that if he just admitted that it was Hungary, the conversation would end there and he'd be off the hook. However, he realised that he didn't really want anyone to think that he was in love with her. It just didn't feel right.

“It's not Hungary.”

“Oh? Now that's interesting. Who, then? Austria?”

“Like hell!”

“Well, they do say that rivalry is just sexual tension, and if that's true, the two of you have a lot of it.” 

“That's bullshit!” Prussia snapped, but he couldn't help but think of all the times he and Romano just bitched at each other. Well, not really. They hadn't done that in a while. Now it was more like... some sort of bantering, and they both knew they didn't really mean what they said. He wondered if that counted.

“Seriously, why won't you tell me who it is? I won't laugh. I'm your friend, remember?”

Prussia poked at the remaining cake on his plate. “It's not exactly a simple situation, you know?”

“That much I knew already. Why else would you of all people worry about ruining everything between you and this mysterious person? That's called love.”

“I'm not in love!” Prussia snapped. “At most you could call it growing interest. I don't do love.”

“Mm-mh,” France hummed in amusement. “I would very much love to meet this person who has you so tightly wrapped around their little finger.”

“You've met him,” Prussia muttered.

“Oh, now that's interesting. Let me guess. Hmm. Netherlands?”

“No.”

“Alright, do I have to go south or north? West or east?”

“Okay, let's cut it with this crap! It's Romano, okay? Are you happy now?”

Prussia pouted as he watched France's expression turn from surprise to confusion and finally to endearment. Seeing that knowing look in France's eyes made Prussia feel his cheeks flush, and he turned his eyes to his piece of cake – only to see that he had been poking at it this whole time and the marzipan flower he had been saving was ruined. Fuck.

“Romano,” France said, savouring the name. “I don't even know why I'm surprised. Italy told me you've been growing quite close lately, but I never suspected it would go quite that far.”

“It's not going anywhere,” Prussia said unhappily. “I can't sleep with Romano. He'd throw a fit and kill me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Hah, are you stupid? Romano is so not into one night stands or friends with benefits scenarios. I'd rather keep hanging out with him than have my way with him for one night,” Prussia said.

France stared at him for a moment. “So, you're saying that the ideal combination would be both sex and getting to spend time with him?”

“Yeah.”

“There's a word for that. It's called a relationship, you fool.”

“What? Me? Pfft! I thought you knew me! That's not for me!”

“Why not?”

Prussia opened his mouth to reply, but then he realised that he didn't actually have that good of an answer. It just wasn't something that had felt a pressing need to do, especially after Fritz had died and after he had realised that Hungary would never look at him like she looked at Austria.

“It's just... not,” he said in discomfort. And who the hell was France to talk about relationships anyway? He had just ruined his and said that commitment didn't work for him, for God's sake!

“You should give it a try,” France suggested.

“Hypocrite,” Prussia growled.

France winced defensively. “At least I gave it a try! You should, too. Maybe you and Romano will be good together. Remember what I said about roses and thorns?”

“That was crap,” Prussia said. “And I might ruin my perfect friendship with Romano by even suggesting something like that.”

“Ah, so you're scared. That's understandable, especially since you're so inexperienced and all.”

“I'm not scared! And I would be the best boyfriend in the world! If I asked Romano to be with me, he'd say yes and cry tears of joy!”

Prussia didn't care about the looks he was suddenly getting from the other customers at the café. That France had fucking nerve! He was Prussia, and he was the best! He could ace stable relationships any time he felt like it. He had no reason to be afraid of anything, especially something like Romano saying that he didn't want him.

“Then I don't see what's stopping you from asking, but since you said you don't want my advice, I'll let it be. I'm sure you'll figure it all out on your own anyway. You're awesome, after all,” France said and gave him a wink as he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Damn right,” Prussia muttered.

***

France left some time in the afternoon, saying that he had already missed too much work and couldn't stay for longer. In a way, Prussia was glad to see him go. He felt like he needed some time alone to think.

That morning had pretty much established that he thought Romano was sexually attractive – while taking care of his problem, he hadn't had to refer to his porn collection. Just thinking about the dream had been enough to keep him in the mood.

Secondly, he liked Romano. He knew that already. So, what was stopping him from trying to pursue a relationship?

The thought was enough to make Prussia feel ticklish at the pit of his stomach. The idea was exciting, like charging into battle with no strategy.

And really, how awesome would it be to say that he had a boyfriend? That Romano was his boyfriend? It had a wonderful ring to it and was enough to make him grin as he imagined everything that would come with the package. Feeding Romano candy when he was upset, calling him at random hours just to say hello, holding his hand and falling asleep on him when they were watching a movie... He would be able to do all those cute things because that was what couples did!

He'd do this, he decided. He'd woo Romano off his feet before he knew what hit him!

The only problem was that he had no idea how to do that. Prussia hated to admit it, but this was one field where his brother had had a little more success than him.

"So, I was thinking," he said to Germany that evening when they were having dinner. "How did you and Italy get together in the first place?"

Germany looked up from his plate. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"It's nothing bad, I swear! I'm not going to blackmail you with it or anything," Prussia said at once.

"Then why do you want to know?" Germany repeated.

"Just curious. I mean, I should know what goes on in my little brother's life, right?"

Now that Prussia thought about it, he didn't even know when his brother had finally moved to that base with his boyfriend. Germany and Italy had been friends for a long time, but Prussia was pretty sure they hadn't been together during either of the big wars. His brother wouldn't have let anything like that distract him from his duties. All he knew was that they were already together when the Wall fell and he moved in with Germany.

"It's really not worth mentioning," Germany said awkwardly.

"Come on, why? Is it embarrassing?"

"No. It's just nothing spectacular."

"You sure are blushing like it is. Be a sport and tell me!"

Germany put his fork down and glared at him in irritation. "I said it's not interesting. And I don't want to tell you."

"At least tell me if it was you or him who made the first move."

Germany said nothing, but the deepening blush on his face was enough. So, it had been Italy. No surprise there, really. Had it been up to Germany, the two of them wouldn't have even glanced at each other yet. However, that didn't help him much. Prussia doubted anything would happen if he waited for Romano to take the lead.

“You know, I think I'm going to get myself a piece of Italy,” Prussia said.

“Don't. It's not going to end well. I think I've been very tolerant of your behaviour, but if you start bothering Italy –”

“Oh, no! I didn't mean your Italy! I want the better half!”

“Romano?” Germany asked, sounding uncertain.

“No, the third one,” Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I mean Romano!”

“I'm not so sure that's going to end well either. I don't think Romano is a very good match for you.”

“Come on, West! Don't be like that! If you can have a hot Italian boyfriend, why can't I?”

Germany cleared his throat. “Ah... so you're planning to actually get together with him?”

“Yeah, of course. What, did you think I'd just do him once and then move on?”

“Isn't that what you normally do?”

“Well, yeah, but not this time. I figured I'd try out some new things,” Prussia said. He stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and tried to look like he was on top of the situation, but in truth he couldn't help but be a little nervous. This was all new to him, so what if he made some stupid mistakes? He didn't even know if Romano was at all interested in him.

But if he wasn't, well, he'd just have to change that. He'd find a way to convince Romano that what he needed in his life was an awesome boyfriend and that there was only one person who fit that description.

Yeah, this was going to be a piece of cake!


	16. Chapter 16

Prussia took one last glance in the mirror to make sure his tie was perfect. He grinned at his reflection. Even though he didn't like dressing up like this often, he had to admit that he looked damn good when he took the effort to do it. He had even tidied his hair a little, just to make sure Germany wouldn't have any reason to complain.

Of course, the most difficult battle was still ahead. He had about half an hour to convince his brother that he absolutely had to be allowed to come to the world meeting. It was thankfully being held in Berlin this time, so plane tickets at the last minute weren't going to be an issue. On the other hand, Germany was always super strict when he was the host, so he might not be so willing to let him attend, even if he promised to be on his best behaviour.

Well, there was no way but ahead, and he wasn't known for backing down even when the odds were against him.

"Morning, West!" he said as he entered the kitchen where Germany was having his usual cup of coffee and going through his papers for the last time.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Germany asked, frowning in suspicion.

"Now, now, don't get ahead of yourself. Hey, have some more coffee," Prussia said and hurried to pour more into Germany's cup even though it was still half full.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know." Prussia took a seat at the table and looked his brother straight in the eyes. "The thing is, I want to come to the meeting today."

"You don't have any business there.”

Prussia supposed that was better than a straight-out no. "Yeah, I know. But I still want to be there," he said.

Germany sighed. "You did a great job last time, but unless you've got something to contribute, I can't let you come just because. England doesn't bring Scotland and the others, just like Russia doesn't bring Mordovia or Ulyanovsk and the rest. I can't start making exceptions for you."

"Aww, come on! At least hear me out! I've got a really good reason to go," Prussia said.

"What is it?" Germany asked, but his tone already told Prussia that he wasn't expecting anything persuasive.

Prussia had considered coming up with some amazing story that would cover his ass, but then he had decided that the truth would be the best option. Germany could always double check anything he said, and maybe he'd get through to him if he tried to appeal to his brotherly emotions.

"I have to talk to Romano," he said. "And not on the phone. In person. I really have to."

"So, you haven't given up on this idea of the two of you dating?"

"No, of course not! Did you think I would?"

"Well, you have to admit you're a little impulsive sometimes. I thought it was just another of your strange ideas," Germany said.

"No way, West! I'm serious! And I'm pretty damn insulted that you'd think that way about your own brother. So, help me out here, okay? Let me come to the meeting!"

"I'm not so sure..."

"Do you want me to beg here or what? Tell you what, I won't even come to the meeting room. I'll wait outside, and I'll talk to Romano when you're having a break. You can even take away my phone so that I can't send him anything during the meeting," Prussia said.

Germany stared at him for a long time. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so what?" Prussia asked, feeling a little defensive. "You think I can't get a boyfriend? That I'm not good enough to hang out with you real nations?"

"That's not what I meant," Germany hurried to say. "I'm just surprised. I thought it wasn't your style to be interested in stable relationships."

"I've been through a dissolution and a reunification. Nothing's stable with me, and that includes not being interested in anything... stable," Prussia said, but he realised he wasn't making that much sense. "What I mean is that... Uh, I guess you could say that Romano is... the only one awesome enough for me, so that's why I'm making an exception in his case," he continued.

"I see," Germany said. "I suppose I understand what you're getting at, even if it wasn't very eloquently put."

"So, can I come?"

"I guess it won't do any harm. But please stay in the hall during the meeting," Germany said.

"Yes, awesome! Here, have my phone," Prussia said and dug into his pocket, but Germany waved at him to stop.

"Keep it. I'm willing to trust you on that you won't do anything stupid with it."

"Huh, really? Thanks!" Prussia couldn't help but be a bit impressed. Germany always treated him like he was nothing but a troublemaker. Had he really been this convincing? Pretty cool!

"Don't mention it. I'm actually glad you're giving this a try. It's going to do you some good," Germany said.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I just think it can't be very healthy to spend so much time with just your computer for company."

"Says the person who likes to stay up the whole night and do paperwork. Nobody's perfect, West."

"I know," Germany said. He got up and organized his papers into a neat pile. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes, so be ready on time."

"Sure!"

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Germany offered him a somewhat awkward smile. "Good luck."

"I won't need luck. I've got skill and killer looks, but thanks!" Prussia said. Somehow, knowing that his brother was with him in this boosted his confidence even more. "Check you calendar! We're going on double dates before you know it!"

***

Romano was having an even more difficult time concentrating on the meeting than usual. He was pretty sure he knew what the topic of Russia's presentation was, but he had long since lost track of whether he had already moved to the third part or if he was still answering China's question.

He tried to keep his eyes locked on Russia's PowerPoint or the notes he was supposedly taking, but his glance kept shifting towards Spain on the other side of the table whenever he let his mind wander – which was often.

Spain looked alright; he was following Russia's presentation with the usual smile on his face and nodding every now and then. However, Romano was certain he wasn't fine. How could he be when that wine-addicted, snail-slurping bastard of epic proportions and with no concept of personal hygiene had taken advantage of him and then tossed him aside like a used tissue?

The pen in his hand was pressing painfully into his skin as he clutched it in his hand, but he didn't care. He needed that pain to stop himself from jumping to his feet and screaming his head off at France who was also following the presentation as if nothing had happened. The goddamn bastard. Bastard, bastard, bastard! Romano would kill him!

He had finally been able to get a hold of Spain a couple of days before the meeting. Spain had told him the things as they were, that he and France were no longer together. Romano hadn't managed to get many details out of him, but Spain had admitted that it was France who had ended the relationship. And that was enough for Romano. France was an asshole, and he would never forgive him for what he had done to Spain. Never.

God, why couldn't these two days be over already? As soon as they could go home, he'd tag along with Spain and go to his house with him. The idiot would no doubt act like it wasn't necessary, but there was nothing he could do to stop Romano from coming. He'd cook something nice for him, and they'd take care of the tomato fields and then he would badmouth France so much that by the end of it Spain would be fucking happy that he didn't have to waste his time with him anymore.

"And that was what I wanted to say today. Any ques –"

"Nope! All clear! Lunch time, everyone!" America declared.

Russia's smile looked positively irritated. "Since you listened so carefully to what I had to say, I will have lunch with you today. We can discuss everything further," he said.

"Dude, no way! Last time I had lunch with you, you ordered something that smelled so bad it totally ruined my appetite! I couldn't even finish my twelfth burger!"

Romano hastily gathered his things and stuffed them into his suitcase, not turning his eyes away from Spain for a single moment.

"Hey!" he announced as he stomped over to him.

"Oh, hi, Romano."

"I'm hungry. Let's go and eat something. Now."

Spain shrugged. "Sure. Let's check out what they've got at the canteen," he said.

"No way. This is Germany. It's almost as bad as England. That's why I made us lunch boxes," Romano said, holding up his suitcase.

"You did? That's so nice of you!" Spain said with a smile and reached out to ruffle his hair.

"Stop that, dammit!" Romano snapped and swatted his hand away. "It's nothing personal. I just knew you'd take forever to choose anything at the canteen, and I'm hungry, so I wanted everything to go faster."

"Haha, thank you," Spain said as Romano shoved a lunch box into his hands.

"Now let's go somewhere where we can eat in peace!" 

In practice, that meant as far away from France as possible. There was no way Romano would let that asshole come anywhere near Spain in at least a decade.

They made it out of the meeting room and into the hall, but that was as far as they got. Someone suddenly surprised Romano from behind and covered his eyes with their hands. Just as he was about to turn around and shove his knee into his assailant's crotch, he heard an all too familiar voice.

"Boo! Guess who!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Romano asked. He shoved the offending hands away and retreated several steps to get out of Prussia's reach.

Goddammit, this was the last thing he needed right now. He had been able to keep Prussia out of his mind for the past few days because he had been so busy hating France, and he had hoped he could keep it that way despite the fact that Germany was hosting the meeting. In fact, the only reason he had even come to the meeting was that he had wanted to see Spain.

"Is that a way to greet me? Where's your 'Hi, Prussia, I'm so happy to see you'?"

"Stop trying to give me a heart attack by assaulting me like that first!"

"Charming as always," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. Then he waved at Spain. "How's it going?"

"Just fine."

"Any time you feel like going out drinking to forget the Frenchie, let me know, okay?"

"Thanks, but I've got a lot of things to do at home. I'm right in the middle of renovating the bathroom."

"Finally. That damn shower always stops working when it's my turn to use it," Prussia said.

Romano watched the two friends chat about the house and tried not to feel irritated, but he couldn't help it. This time he had very good reasons! He had planned everything well so that he could have a nice lunch break with Spain and take his mind off France, and now that bastard Prussia had come and ruined it. And not just that, but he was hogging all of Spain's attention so that Romano felt like a third wheel.

And then there was the irritating fact that Prussia was talking to Spain and not him. Romano knew it was childish to be jealous of that because Spain was the one who needed comfort and attention, but it didn't help. He wanted Prussia to look at him, ask him how he had been and – God, he was so pathetic. Hadn't he already decided that he would just forget about all this crap?

"You didn't answer my question!" he snapped when it looked like Prussia and Spain had completely forgotten he was even there.

Prussia turned to look at him. "What? Oh! Right, yeah, of course I'm here. Why would I miss a meeting when there's one right at my doorstep?"

"Because you aren't supposed to be at meetings?" Spain offered helpfully.

"And you weren't even present. You were waiting out here," Romano said.

Prussia shrugged. "I heard Russia was talking today, so I decided to skip that. See, part of the fun of being an ex-nation is that I don't have to come if I don't want to."

Romano snorted, and Spain was smiling in that polite way that showed he had chosen not to argue even though the other party was wrong. Romano supposed one couldn't be friends with Prussia without learning to pick which fights were worth the effort.

"Anyway, what are you two just standing here?" Prussia asked.

Spain lifted his lunch box. "Romano made us something to eat, so we were just about to go and have lunch."

"Cool. Got anything for me?" Prussia asked.

"We didn't know you were coming," Spain said.

"Well, that's okay. I'll just share Romano's box like last time."

"No, you won't! We didn't even invite you to eat with us!"

"What, so you're just going to leave me alone here?"

"No, of course not. You can eat from my box," Spain offered.

Fucking hell. Now Romano felt even more pissed off. Nothing was going his way. Of course he wouldn't have minded that Prussia shared his box, but he couldn't just say that, right? Now he wished he had, but it was too late. If he changed his mind, he'd look like an idiot.

He supposed disappointment was what he deserved for always being like this. If he could have just brought himself to say that yes, Prussia could share his lunch, everything would have been so much easier. But no, he was being a fool and driving himself insane with this crap. It was just a stupid, fucking lunch box. Why did it even matter?

They found a quiet corner of the building with a few benches and settled down to eat. The good food made Romano feel a little better, so he was able to wipe the scowl off his face and not sulk so much. He knew he was being selfish. This one time he tried his best to hide it because he was sure that Spain would shower him with smiles and hugs if he noticed. Romano would die if that happened. If he made this all about himself again, he would just prove what a childish failure he was.

"So, what was the meeting about?" Prussia asked.

"I thought you weren't interested," Romano replied.

"Just because I don't want to hear Russia talk about it doesn't mean I'm not interested in the topic."

"It was oil," Spain said.

Prussia made a face. "Oil. Blah. Are environment and economy all you talk about these days?"

"Oil could very well be the cause of the next great war, if that makes you feel better," Spain said.

"Nah, who cares? Even if that happened, I bet West wouldn't let me play with his army."

"That might be the only good idea he has ever had," Romano muttered.

"Maybe I'll found my own army," Prussia said and popped a piece of pasta into his mouth. "You know, hire a few mercenaries, help some shady governments or rebels depending on who pays the most... That might be fun, and maybe if I played my cards right, I'd get myself a new country in the process."

"Countries founded like that don't last long," Spain said.

"That's because they haven't had me in charge. I bet I could build an empire in no time if I could be bothered to do it again. But for now I've got other things to conquer," Prussia said, and Romano could have sworn that his grin widened as he glanced at him.

"And it's more fun to lie in the shade on my porch and drink until nightfall, isn't it?" Spain asked. He smiled and snatched the last piece of tomato right from Prussia's fingers. "Sometimes I don't know where I found the energy for all that fighting and conquering. I like life better this way."

"You're growing old," Prussia said with a cackle.

Romano concentrated on eating his pasta and no longer even tried to contribute anything to the conversation. He realised that he didn't mind too much after all. Prussia's stupid rambling was keeping Spain occupied, and that was all that mattered.

"Well, thanks for the lunch, Romano," Spain said and got up.

"Wait, where are you going?" Romano asked.

"I've got something I need to talk about with Portugal. I'll see you when the meeting continues." 

Spain gave them a wave and shoved his hands into his pockets, soon disappearing down the hall.

"He seems to be fairing well," Prussia said.

Romano hummed in agreement. It was suddenly very awkward to be alone with Prussia. He couldn't help but think back to the last time they had – no, don't think about it. Eat pasta and pretend there was nothing to talk about!

"You know, I was lying to you guys earlier," Prussia said.

"Yeah, about what?"

"About the reason I came to the meeting." Prussia hopped to take over Spain's place right by Romano's side. "I'm actually here to see you."

"W-what?" Romano blurted out. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Prussia chuckled. "Surprised, huh? I figured I'd use the chance to say hello to you now that you're here in Berlin again."

"You could have just called," Romano said and returned his attention to the remains of his food. He did his best to ignore the stupid crap Prussia was spewing and not get flustered or hopeful because of it. Prussia said shit like that to everyone, he was sure.

"Nah, I wanted to see you in person. You haven't been answering my texts lately. Why's that?"

"I've been busy. It's not like talking to you is the most important thing in my life," Romano said.

"Well, it should be," Prussia whined.

"Yeah, right. Get your ego checked, bastard."

Prussia sighed and leaned back on the bench. "You know, this isn't going exactly like I was planning."

"I don't even know what you're trying to do here. You're being even weirder than normal."

"Sorry, I guess I'm kind of rusty at this."

"At what?" Romano asked in exasperation. What the hell was wrong with this idiot?

"Never mind," Prussia said. "But hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you ditch those losers and skip the rest of the meeting? Let's go and do something else!"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. We could get some ice cream for dessert and then decide. Whatever we end up doing, it can't be worse than going back to talk about oil."

Romano couldn't decide. The meeting was boring and he was having trouble concentrating anyway. Normally, he might have taken Prussia up on his offer without a second thought, but he had been so determined to support Spain this time. He couldn't just leave him, could he? And did he really want to spend any more time alone with Prussia when he was still feeling so embarrassed about that last evening in Rome?

"What makes you think hanging out with you would be better than the meeting? At least I'll get to see England try to beat up France if I go there," he said.

"Like that hasn't grown stale. They've been at it for centuries."

Romano snorted.

"Hey, come on. The ice cream's on me. You'd have to be an idiot to say no to that!"

"At least it had better be some damn good ice cream, then!"

"Sure. I'll order you something really sweet because you're in a prickly mood again today."

"I'm not!" Romano snapped. He wished it were true. He wanted to have a great time with Prussia again, just like before all this stupid crap had happened, but right now there was too much on his mind, and he felt that he couldn't control anything around him. It made him want to raise his usual walls around him and snap at everyone who said anything to him.

At the same time, that was exactly what he didn't want to do. It would just end like that Saturday in Rome when he had made himself and everyone around him miserable. He had promised Prussia he wouldn't act like that again.

"Yes, you are. But don't worry, I know just the way to cheer you up!" Prussia said.

He caught Romano's hand and started dragging him down the hall. Romano complained all the way but didn't really fight back.

***

Prussia had to admit that things weren't going exactly according to plan. He had envisioned that he would have already swept Romano off his feet and got a passionate kiss and a "Finally you saw how much I've wanted you all this time, bastard! Take me now!" out of him, but so far he hadn't been able to advance at all.

That was bothering him more than he cared to admit. He'd been turned down before, as unbelievable as that was, but that was okay. His world hadn't crumbled just because Denmark or Serbia hadn't wanted to sleep with him every time he was willing. Watching Hungary attach herself to Austria's arm had stung a tad more, but he had got over that.

If Romano told him to fuck off, he'd get over that as well. He just really, really didn't want it to come to that. It wasn't only his pride at stake this time. Admitting it was almost frightening, but it might break his heart just a tiny bit if Romano told him that he wasn't interested in him.

That was why he couldn't wrap his arm around Romano's shoulders and suggest that they'd go straight to his place. Or get up and go over to him to lick that bit of ice cream that he hadn't yet noticed off his chin. Romano wouldn't react well to such a direct attack. He'd have to be more careful or he'd surely scare him away.

And since being smooth and careful wasn't at all Prussia's style, he wasn't really sure what his next move should be. So, for the time being, he simply licked at his raspberry ice cream and watched Romano do the same to his chocolate and vanilla.

"So who pissed in your cereal this morning?" he asked.

Romano sent him a murderous glare over his ice cream, and Prussia figured that it probably wouldn't have been the best thing to say in a normal situation and definitely not now that he was trying to flirt.

"Okay, let me try again," he said before Romano had the chance to snap at him. "What's wrong? I thought ice cream was one of those things that made you smile without fail."

"I'm in a bad mood."

"Yeah, I figured that much," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes, but he was glad Romano had at least admitted it. Maybe the ice cream had softened him a little. Normally he would have just snapped that everything was fine.

"Just forget about it. It's not like you can do anything," Romano continued.

"Is this about Spain?"

"Of course! What else would it be?"

"Hey, no need to get defensive! It's not like I'm accusing you of anything," Prussia said.

Romano glared at his ice cream. "Good. Because there's nothing else wrong."

Prussia supposed that pretty much confirmed that there was something else going on, but he knew it wasn't a good idea to mention it now. It was probably something completely unrelated to him anyway, so he might just make it worse if kept prodding.

"Spain knows how to take care of himself. He acts like an idiot a lot of times, but he's not a doormat. He's not going to just sit back and let France treat him like that," he said.

"Looks to me like that's exactly what he's doing."

"Nah, not Spain," Prussia said and chuckled. "He's like a lion or something. He's just snoring in the shade most of the time, but it's still dangerous to cross him. I'm sure you remember. You were there when he was off to conquer new lands."

"He kept me out of it," Romano muttered.

Yeah, that made sense. Romano had been just a kid, and Spain adored children. He wouldn't have wanted to get him involved in anything that might have been dangerous. It was kind of sweet, but Prussia couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at what a strong bond Spain and Romano shared. Spain had even had an influence on Romano's culture.

"You don't have to worry about him so much. He's going to give France what's coming to him," Prussia said.

It... kind of bugged him how Romano was so caught up in Spain's problems. He probably wouldn't give a damn if the same happened to Prussia.

His confidence wavered a little at that thought. Was there any hope of getting Romano interested in him? He hadn't spotted any signs so far. And did he even have anything to offer? Prussia didn't even for a moment think that he wasn't good enough, but maybe he wasn't the right one. Romano had been with Spain. If Spain reflected Romano's taste in men, what chances did he have?

"So, what next?" Romano asked after having finished his ice cream.

"Huh, what do you mean?"

"You made me skip the meeting. You had better have something other than just ice cream planned, jerkface!"

"Yeah, sure. Let's go and walk around. I'll show you some things," Prussia suggested. To be honest, he hadn't thought that much ahead. He had figured that they'd already be making out somewhere after the ice cream. But he could improvise. No problem.

"It had better be something good."

Right. Good. Good was awesome, and awesome was...

"I know! You ever been to Unter den Linden?"

"No."

"Then let's go! Man, that place rocks!"

***

Romano wasn't sure why he kept letting Prussia drag him along. He should have gone back to the meeting to glare daggers at France. That wasn't fun by any means, but at least it wouldn't have been as awkward as being alone with Prussia.

It sucked, but it worked in his favour that he could blame his sour mood on Spain's problems. Otherwise Prussia would just keep poking until he discovered that – No, that was too embarrassing and stupid to even think about. He'd just have to suck it up and try to act like everything was like before that evening in Rome.

They were currently walking through a long pedestrian street with basswood trees surrounding it from all sides. The late summer sun and Prussia's near running pace made Romano wish that he weren't wearing a suit and a tie and that he had thought to bring something to drink with him.

"Why do you have to go so goddamn fast?" he asked.

"There's something really cool at the other end!"

"Well, whatever the hell it is, I'm sure it's not going to get up and walk away if we get there five minutes later!"

"Oh, don't be like that! Come on!" 

Prussia caught a hold of Romano's wrist and started dragging him away even faster, forcing him to start jogging to keep up with him. Romano spat out curses at every step, but there was no fighting against Prussia when he really wanted something.

A couple of minutes later they finally arrived at whatever it was that Prussia wanted to show him. Romano leaned against his knees and panted for breath, certain that the sharp ache in his lungs would never fade.

"Surely you're in a better shape than that?"

Romano looked up. Prussia was grinning at him, his cheeks flushed. His breathing was fast as well, but he looked like he was having the time of his life. At some point, he had found the time to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt, and the running had messed up his hair again.

"It's just because these shoes suck," Romano said and forced himself to turn his eyes away. He shouldn't stare, no matter how much he wanted to.

Prussia laughed, but then he turned his attention to the large statue by their side. He observed it with his hands on his hips before looking at Romano again.

"Well?" he asked.

Romano looked at the statue. It was a man on horseback. As far as statues went, it was alright, he supposed.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"What?" Prussia barked and stared at him like he had just insulted his mother, sister and grandmother at the same time. "You don't know?"

"It's not my job to know everyone in your damn country."

Prussia pointed both of his hands at the statue. "But he was the best! If you could know only one person in the entire world history, it should be my Fritz!"

"Oh, right." Now Romano remembered. This was the one Prussia never shut up about. He recalled him staring mournfully into his empty glass at some party and lamenting the fact that nobody after him had been that awesome.

"You were just kidding when you said you didn't know him, right?" Prussia asked.

"I know who he was! I just didn't recognise the statue!"

"Well, good. Because otherwise I'd have to educate you." Prussia shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed up at the statue, deep in thought.

Romano kicked at the ground at his feet, feeling awkward again. It was strange to see a nation be that attached to one of their people. They watched them be born and die, and it was all such a fleeting moment to them. Romano had never met Frederick, but he must have been amazing for Prussia to look at his statue with such affection in his eyes.

"So, we just came here to look at this thing?" he grumbled, hoping to get Prussia's attention off the statue. What was he, stupid? Everyone knew there was no point in yearning for people who were long dead.

And, Romano grudgingly had to admit, that made it even more pathetic to be jealous of someone who had died a long time ago.

"There's plenty more," Prussia said. "The Humboldt University is over there. It doesn't take too long to walk to the station at Friedrichstraße where we've been shopping, remember? And if we go that way, we'll find the Brandenburg Gate."

"Anything's fine."

"Then let's take a look at the university. It's really great. We can buy some soda if we find a vending machine."

And so Prussia led him to the university. It was an impressive building, Romano had to admit, even if the effect was somewhat ruined by the crowd of students lounging on the grass, reading, talking or doing something with their laptops.

Prussia didn't seem to mind that. He talked to the students like he had known them all his life, like he was proud of them. He dragged Romano inside and made him climb the huge stairs and wander around the long, shadowy corridors that made him feel like they had entered a labyrinth. He waved at the professors they came across.

There was a vending machine on the second floor. Prussia bought two bottles of soda and threw one at Romano.

"But don't spill it," he said.

"Since when do you care?" 

"Look at this place! It's amazing. I don't care what anyone says; it's my university. I gave Wilhelm some really good tips about this whole business."

Romano swallowed his comment about Prussia and studying and took a sip of his soda. Prussia looked so happy and proud of himself that he just didn't have the heart to ruin it. In fact, he liked seeing him that way, full of energy and eyes shining. In some strange way, it made him happy as well, and he was able to forget about his problems and relax a little.

Maybe he should try to be content with Prussia's friendship. He supposed that was what he'd call it. They hadn't talked about where they stood with each other, but Romano felt there was no need to. They liked each other's company enough to want to hang out together. Hell, he was skipping a meeting and risking Germany's wrath just to be with this bastard.

Now all he had to do was to get all the stupid ideas out of his head. Or at least stop thinking about them when he was in Prussia's company. He could sulk at home, but he wanted to have a great time with Prussia.

"Wait a moment," he called out when they had left the university and were walking towards the Brandenburg Gate. He walked to one of the numerous stands that were selling postcards and other souvenirs. He didn't want Prussia to guess what he was doing, so he grabbed the first item that caught his eyes and bought it.

"Here," he said and handed the little bag to Prussia.

Prussia first looked at the postcard inside the bag, then at the tiny, bright-coloured pebble that was attached to it. "What the hell?"

"It's for you. Payback for that piece of shit you gave me in Rome."

Prussia took one more look at the item in his hand. Then he started laughing.

"What?" Romano asked, mortified and angry.

"They totally got you! At least the thing I bought you looked kind of nice, but this is total junk! I don't know where they mass-produce these, but there's no way this is a real piece of the Wall. If we put all of these together, we'd probably have a wall long enough to surround half of Germany."

"W-what?" Romano blurted out. He hadn't even realised that what he had bought was supposed to be a piece of the Wall. He had only seen the postcard. "I know that! That's why I got it! I mean, this sucks more, so I win!"

"Whatever," Prussia said. He took Romano's hand and shoved the bag into it.

"What, you don't want it?" Bastard! Romano had accepted his crap gift, and yet he couldn't return the favour?

"I don't need a memento of the Wall. I'll never forget it anyway. But you should totally take it because then you can pretend that you have a piece of me with you everywhere you go, haha!"

"Why would I want to pretend something stupid like that? I'm – I'm going to throw this in the first trash can that we find!"

"Be my guest. You paid for it," Prussia said.

Despite his embarrassment, Romano was relieved. At least Prussia wasn't in a bad mood. Giving him a piece of the Wall, real or not, was a little insensitive. He wondered if he should apologize, just in case.

But Prussia was so energetic and happy as he kept talking about his glorious past and pointing out buildings and memorials that he decided against it. It would just ruin the mood if they started talking about that.

Prussia gave him an expectant look when they passed a trash can, but Romano pretended that he hadn't seen a thing. The postcard and the pebble were safe in his pocket.

***

They had early dinner – by Romano's standards – after Prussia had dragged him around the city for nearly half the day. By the time Romano had managed to say that he wanted to get back to his hotel, it was already getting dark, and his feet were killing him.

"Wow, it's that late. Where did the day go?" Prussia asked as he turned to look at the sky.

Romano had no snarky reply ready. To be honest, at some point he had lost the track of time as well. It was so easy to forget everything when Prussia smiled at him. Or when he pretended to be busy boasting about some past accomplishment but stole a glance at him from the corner of his eye, clearly making sure that Romano was suitably impressed. Romano didn't like to describe things as cute, but that almost fit the bill.

"Who cares? Just tell me the way to my hotel," he said.

"Sure, I'll walk you."

There was something about Prussia's grin that made Romano turn his face away. He didn't say a word to him as they stepped into a bus and took seats.

Romano stared out the window, hoping that Prussia would think his silence was the result of him being tired. He toyed with the fantasy of what it would be like if this had been a date. Then it would be alright if he leaned against Prussia or just brushed his hand against his. But Romano wasn't sure he'd ever have the courage to do that even if they had been out for real. He wanted to, but even small gestures like that made his stomach clench.

"So, how was today?" Prussia asked.

Romano didn't turn his eyes from the window. "At least it was better than the meeting."

"Oh, come on! You had a great time! I saw you smile! Admit it!"

"No."

"What, so you're saying that it was boring?"

Romano knew that the hurt in Prussia's voice was fake, that he was just messing with him again. It still bugged him to hear it.

"Alright, fine. It was okay," he muttered.

"Just okay?"

"Don't push it, bastard!"

Instead of arguing, Prussia suddenly leaned close and pressed both of his hands against the window. 

"W-what – " Romano stammered, but Prussia didn't even look at him.

"I think that's your hotel over there," he said.

"Where? It's too dark," Romano said. He kept his eyes locked on the window and tried to ignore how Prussia was almost sitting on his lap. A hot wave travelled down his body, and he wanted to die. Prussia smelled of sweat, sausages and beer. It was so disgusting, but he loved it at the same time.

"There. Look at that blue sign," Prussia said.

"Oh, that one."

Romano let out a sigh of relief when Prussia straightened his form and returned to sit properly on his seat. He was even more relieved when Prussia pushed the button to make the bus halt and told him that they needed to get out at the next stop.

"Finally," Romano muttered and drew a deep breath when they were outside again.

"Tired already? It wasn't such a long ride."

"You dragged me along the whole day! My feet hurt, and I'm going to have to have another dinner or I'll be starving when it's time to go to bed!"

"Sheesh, you had a free tourist guide for yourself all day, and the dinner was on me. What reason do you have to complain?" Prussia asked, a hint of real irritation in his voice this time.

None, Romano knew. It had been fun, and even if it hadn't been, it wasn't polite to complain when everything had been offered to him free like that. And really, he wanted Prussia to know he had had a great time. He just... kind of wished he'd know how to read behind the lines so that he wouldn't have to say it.

But it looked like Prussia wouldn't. He was glaring before him with his hands crossed as they walked. They were almost at the hotel now, and Romano realised he didn't want them to part ways with Prussia in a bad mood because of him.

And all this time, hadn't he been promising himself that he'd get better at this and not be such a loser all the time?

He swallowed, feeling his hands get sweaty. Goddamit, he sucked. Why couldn't he just take back what he had said and admit that he had had fun? It was no big deal! Any normal person could have said that. There was nothing embarrassing about it.

"Okay, listen," he started. "Stop sulking like that because it's really stupid."

Prussia shot him a glare that told Romano he wasn't doing a very good job at this.

"A-and I had a lot of fun, dammit! What the hell, do I need to spell that out for you or what?" Romano continued.

Prussia stared at him for a while, but then he started laughing and draped his arm over Romano's shoulders.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Romano snarled.

"Man, listen to yourself! Can you imagine yourself saying that to me after the first time I showed you around Berlin?"

"I could have said that any time I wanted!"

"Oh?" Prussia asked and poked a finger under his ribs. "Then do it again. Say how much fun you had with me."

"Why should I?"

"I'll give you something in return."

"Yeah, like what?"

Prussia grinned. "I'll tell you how much fun _I_ had with _you._ "

Romano wanted to snap something witty in return, but his throat was so tight he couldn't make a sound. Dammit, he could feel his face grow hot, and Prussia was right there and would see it and draw all the wrong – right – conclusions and then he'd die and – Who the hell got this flustered over something that stupid anyway? It was just a fucking compliment!

"Well? Go on," Prussia prodded.

I can do this, Romano thought. He'd just repeat what he said. But there were too many confusing thoughts circling in his head, and he suddenly realised that Prussia was still leaning against him with his arm over his shoulder.

"I –" he started, but then he saw the front door of the hotel open. 

France stepped outside. He smiled as he noticed them.

"Ah, there you are, Romano. Italy was wondering where you disappeared to," he said. "Oh, I had no idea it was Prussia who dragged you off. Had fun, you two?"

"What the hell do you want?" Romano snarled, wriggling free from under Prussia's arm. The confused mixture of embarrassment and happiness was all gone; now there was nothing but hatred and disgust for this bastard.

"Nothing. I'm just going out."

"Yeah, to do what? Fuck everyone who looks your way now that you aren't chained to Spain anymore? Or were you already doing that when you were together?"

"Hey, now. That's not really fair," France said in an exasperated tone.

"Fuck you! Get the hell out of here before I kill you! I'll – I'll kick you in the –"

"Romano, calm down," Prussia said, and Romano realised he had forgotten he was even there.

"Why? Don't tell me you're taking his side!"

Prussia raised his palms. "I'm not taking any sides, honest."

"You damn well should be! You should be on Spain's side!"

"They're both my friends, okay? As much as I like conflict, I've got to stay neutral when something like this happens," Prussia explained.

"Go to hell!" Romano snapped.

France sighed and turned to talk to Prussia. “Forget about him. It's impossible to talk to him when he's like that. Come with me instead and take me to that club you're always talking about,” he said.

“Yeah, just go with him, asshole! You two traitors are perfect for each other!” With that, Romano turned around and marched to the front doors, slamming them open as he entered the hotel.

Romano wiped angrily at his eyes as he ran up the stairs to get to his room. Fucking hell. He already knew he was going to regret this spectacle soon, but right now he couldn't have cared less. Spain had been hurt, and it wasn't right that France could walk around with that perverted smirk on his lips like he hadn't done anything wrong.

And Prussia! What the hell did he think he was doing? Wasn't it obvious that he should have kicked France's ass already and denounced their stupid friendship for good? Why did he not do that? He sucked, and Romano hated him so much right now.

He slammed the door to his and Veneziano's hotel room shut behind him and fell on the bed, burying his face into the pillow. His brother didn't hurry to ask what was wrong with him, and Romano remembered that he had planned to go out with Poland and Lithuania that evening.

It was great, he tried to convince himself. At least he could cry without that idiot clinging onto him the whole time.

***

From the way the front door was slammed shut with much more force than was necessary, Germany guessed that everything hadn't gone according to Prussia's plan. He couldn't say he was surprised. He had thought from the start that his brother and Romano wouldn't be a very good combination, but he hadn't had the heart to say that. Prussia had seemed so excited, and Germany was genuinely happy that he was interested in someone. He just wished it were someone else, just for Prussia's sake.

He realised that things were even worse than he had thought when Prussia staggered into the living room, his hair and clothes a mess and face twisted in anger and disappointment. The sight made Germany decide that it was a good idea to postpone his lecture about dragging members of the world meeting away in the middle of the day.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Fucking France happened!" Prussia snapped as he threw himself on the coach. "We were having such a great time, and I was just going to get Romano to open up to me, and then that asshole waltzed out of the fucking hotel and Romano threw a total fit!"

"Well, after what France did –"

"And then he got on my case! Like it's my fault! I can't just start throwing shit at France, no matter how big of an ass he's being."

Germany hummed diplomatically and let Prussia rant and curse to let out steam. He would calm down after a while.

He cleared his throat when Prussia finally looked like he wasn't ready to murder someone. "It's not really my business, but maybe you should reconsider this whole thing," he said.

"What?"

"I mean Romano. He's a little difficult, and – "

"What the fuck, West? Now you're turning against me, too?"

"No, I just don't think this is such a good idea. Maybe you could find someone who is a little more compatible with you."

"But I don't want anyone else! Romano is the best!"

Germany looked at the sincere expression on his brother's face, and for once he was sure that he was being entirely serious. Prussia never looked like that when it wasn't a matter of life and death.

"Why?" he asked. "What is so special about Romano?"

Prussia stared at him like he was stupid. It was nothing new, but this time it made Germany a little uncomfortable. In fact, the whole conversation was making him want to squirm, but he supposed it was his duty as a brother to at least try to deal with it.

"I can't explain it, okay? He just is. He... he respects me," Prussia said.

"He does? I've never heard him say anything to you that wasn't an insult."

"Well, maybe respect is too strong a word, but you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

Prussia ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration. "Look, most of the time he just yells at me, sure. But he talks to me about his problems and cares about what I say. And sometimes he asks me about mine. That's a lot more than what I can say about most people."

Now Germany definitely felt uncomfortable. "If there's something wrong –"

"Not now. I'm too tired to deal with that shit. Besides, I don't have any problems. I just... talk to Romano sometimes, okay?" Prussia crossed his hands on his chest as he spoke, pouting and refusing to look at him.

Germany had always wished that he knew how to get his brother to try to deal with the issues that were bothering him, but he wasn't very good at it himself, so he had never had much success. It looked like Romano had pushed some magic button, though, and he found himself feeling a little more appreciation for the southern half of Italy.

"And Romano is cute," Prussia said swiftly. "No offence, but he's so much cuter than your Italy! When he gets pissed off, he frowns and wrinkles his nose in this adorable way, and then all I want is to poke at his cheek and tickle him to make him laugh, but I don't because he would try to kick my ass – try, I emphasize, because he totally couldn't. And I want to buy him candy and we should wear matching boxers and drink beer every night and –"

"Alright, I get it." To be honest, Germany didn't understand how Prussia could possibly feel that way about Romano, but he could see it was real. And if it was real, it could make his brother happy and get him to come out of the basement a little more often. Or it could break his heart, but Germany would rather not think about that.

"Not that it matters. He's so pissed off at me that he'll probably never talk to me again," Prussia said.

"Knowing Romano, it was just a tantrum. He'll be back to normal soon."

"Yeah, I guess so," Prussia muttered. "Maybe I'll just let him cool off for a few days. I'm not coming to the meeting tomorrow, but let me know if he asks about me, okay?"

"Of course." Germany didn't think Romano would ever approach him, especially to talk about Prussia, but maybe he could ask Italy about it.

Or maybe that would just make everything worse. It would probably be for the best to stay neutral in this matter and let everything develop on its own.


	17. Chapter 17

The meeting about oil and other scarce natural resources was coming to its end. Canada was the last person to speak, which meant that over half of the nations present were already packing their things and getting up, not realising that there was still one presentation left.

Romano was among them, and his irritated mood definitely didn't improve when France suddenly declared that oops, they had forgotten something and had better stay and listen. Everyone grumbled, and poor Canada smiled nervously at them. If Romano hadn't been so occupied with his own problems, he might have felt sorry for him.

He had made lunch boxes that day as well. Three of them, in fact. When Spain had questioned him about it, he had said that he was really hungry and that two of them were for himself. To prove his words, he had emptied the third box, his eyes constantly darting towards the entrance to see if Prussia was coming that day.

He hadn't. Romano had lost all hope after the break had ended and there hadn't been a sign of the former nation. He hadn't even sent him a text.

Romano supposed it was what he deserved for yelling at him like that the previous evening. He regretted it now, even if he still refused to consider the possibility that he was wrong. It just wasn't right that Prussia was still friends with France.

It's not like I wanted him to come, he thought as he completely ignored Canada's presentation, as did pretty much everyone else. It wasn't like he had bought the most expensive sausage he had found that morning and put pieces of it into the third lunch box as an apology or anything. He had just wanted to try out new things. Yeah.

“Romano, are you okay?” Spain asked once the meeting was finally over for real and they were exiting the room.

“I'm fine. Let's just get out of here already.”

“You look like you're angry. Did something happen?” 

“No!”

“But you disappeared from the meeting yesterday. Did you go somewhere with Prussia?”

Romano said nothing as they got into the taxi that would take them to the airport. He had already told Veneziano that he wasn't coming home, that he would go to stay at Spain's place for a few days. Some time in the warm sun with nobody but Spain and tomatoes for company might help him clear his head a little.

“So, you did. Did he do something to you?” Spain asked.

“No, he didn't do anything,” Romano muttered. That was half the problem, wasn't it?

Spain sighed in relief. “Oh, okay. Good. I didn't really like the idea of having to kill him.”

“I know how to take care of myself!”

“Of course you do.” Spain said and reached out to ruffle his hair, which pretty much ruined whatever reassurance Romano might have got from his words. “But if my friends start picking on you, I've got to show them where the line is.”

Romano snorted and leaned back on the seat. Some friend Prussia was. He wondered if Spain even knew that he was still on speaking terms with France. Probably not. Fucking traitor. His outburst the previous evening had been perfectly justified, he told himself. He had no reason to feel guilty or want to apologize.

If someone had to apologize, it was Prussia. But of course he hadn't done that. The loser hadn't even had the guts to show his face. But that was okay, Romano didn't need him, and he certainly didn't care whether Prussia ever spoke to him again or not. He could rot in hell for all he cared.

He busied himself with staring out the window and didn't say a word to Spain on the way to the airport.

***

It was already evening when they arrived at Spain's home in the countryside. The sight of the white house atop the hill and the tomato fields at the bottom of it was comforting, like coming home after years away.

“I'm tired as hell,” Romano said as they stepped inside and turned on the lights.

“That's no surprise. We spent four hours in the car,” Spain said. He was already moving around the kitchen and preparing them something quick to eat before they'd go to bed.

“Why do you have to live so far away from civilization anyway?”

“Don't grumble. If I didn't live here, I couldn't have those big tomato fields you love.”

“Those fields are the only reason I ever come here in the first place,” Romano said. He was leaning his head on his hand and watched Spain slice some vegetables for a sauce he was making.

“There's some work to do tomorrow. I hope you don't mind.”

“If you're going to make me into your slave, you had better cook something special for me.”

In reality, Romano was glad. A few hours in the tomato fields were exactly what he needed to get his mind off everything. Maybe it was the same for Spain. They both certainly had had a lot of shitty things happening to them lately.

They went to bed early because they were both tired from the meeting and the long trip from Germany to Spain. Romano collapsed on his bed with a sigh. He stared at the ceiling and thought to the last time he had been in this room and in this bed. It had been at the Mediterranean party where Veneziano had told him he had to invite Prussia to Rome.

He had been so happy and proud of himself after sending that text to him and telling him to come. Now he knew it had probably been a mistake. Nothing but trouble had resulted from getting closer to Prussia.

Alright, not really. There had been so many good moments as well, like the majority of yesterday. Romano just couldn't decide if those moments were worth all the doubts and worry.

But now was not the time to think about it. Now was the time to get to sleep already and forget about the fact that Prussia still hadn't sent him one goddamn text.

***

The next day, they went to the fields early in the morning when the sun hadn't yet climbed atop the sky and when it was still slightly more pleasant to be outside. Romano had been hoping for a cloudy day, but one look at the sky told him that they'd be scorched if they stayed in the sun for too long.

“This year has been really good for tomatoes,” Spain said as he walked around and moved the leaves aside to get a look at the bright red fruits. He picked one and threw it for Romano to catch.

Romano bit into it. It was delicious and juicy, but instead of admitting that Spain was right, he chose to follow after him in silence and listen to his chatter.

“Well, let's get started. There are so many ripe tomatoes that it might take a while before we've collected them all,” Spain said.

“There had better be something nice on the table today,” Romano reminded him and went to grab a woven basket.

They started working on opposite sides of the field so that they would meet in the middle once they were done. Romano let his hands work, picking nice, red tomatoes into the basket and leaving the others to ripen for a while longer. He didn't need to think of anything as the world around him disappeared, and he was able to find a rare moment of peace.

When he reached the end of the row, he looked up to see Spain at work on the other side of the field. He was picking the tomatoes with a content smile on his face. Romano thought back to what Prussia had told him and wondered if he was right, if Spain really would be fine.

It was hard to tell from the way he smiled, but Spain had endured much in the course of his long life. There had been countless battles, both victories and losses. He had made friends and then faced them in war. He had withered under a fascist dictatorship. He was strong, much stronger than Romano could ever be.

Romano could no longer remember when exactly it had happened, but he had been crying about something stupid. Spain had pulled him close, stroked his hair and said that bad times were always followed by good ones. Romano had ignored him, feeling that there were nothing but bad times in his life. Now he wondered if it was because of that eternal optimism that Spain had never grown bitter.

He lowered his eyes when a sudden feeling of guilt pierced his heart. It wasn't just France who had hurt Spain. Romano had dumped him as well, and he was certain that France had been much more graceful about it. He didn't really have any right to spit fire at him.

A few moments later, he reached the end of another row. He was about to move on to the next one, but then he noticed something off.

The next few rows looked terrible. Weeds were growing alongside the plants, and the ground was riddled with tomatoes that had somehow fallen down and that were now rotting in the sun. It was a disgusting mess, and Romano couldn't understand how Spain could have let this part of the field end up like this.

With an irritated growl, he put away his basket and knelt down to attack the weeds. If Spain didn't want to take care of his tomatoes, he would.

“Hey! Romano!”

He stood up again. “What?”

“Don't touch those!”

“Why the hell not? Have you seen this filth?”

“Yeah, I know. I'm saving it.”

“What? What are you saving it for, you idiot?” Romano asked, but Spain had already returned to his work with the tomatoes.

Romano gave one last look at the mess and threw up his hands in frustration. Fine, then. If Spain wanted to act like a complete fool, he could fucking go ahead. Romano wasn't going to waste his time cleaning up a mess when it wouldn't be appreciated.

They finished picking the tomatoes about two hours later when it was getting so close to noon that they decided it would be for the better to retreat to shade and have a break. Romano leaned his back against the wall as he sat on the bench at Spain's porch.

“Here.”

Romano opened his eyes and saw the juice glass that Spain was holding before his face.

“It had better be cold,” he grumbled.

“It's barely noon, and we've got so much work done already. I think I'm going to dry about half of the tomatoes we picked,” Spain said and sat down by Romano's side to enjoy his drink.

Romano hummed in response.

“Would you like to take some home with you?”

“I've got my own tomatoes!”

“I'll pack you a box or two, then.”

Romano gritted his teeth. He couldn't take this anymore.

“Let's just cut it with the crap, okay?” he snapped.

Spain frowned at him in confusion. “What?”

“France. If you want me to kick him in the balls for you, just say so and consider it done.”

“Oh, that,” Spain said with a small chuckle. “Thanks, but as much as I enjoy the idea, that won't be necessary.”

“Why not? Are you just going to sit here and let him treat you like that?”

“He had the right to break up with me. That's how relationships work, you know,” Spain said, making Romano wince. Was that directed at him? Was Spain angry about how he had dumped him after all?

He fidgeted guiltily with his fingers and couldn't bring himself to say anything. Spain spent a moment staring at him in puzzlement, but then his eyes widened as if a light bulb had suddenly been turned on inside his head.

“Oh, no, I'm not angry at you. That was completely different,” he said.

“How the hell was it different?”

“Because you didn't love me anymore and because the relationship was hurting you.”

No. Spain shouldn't say that. It wasn't right. “Listen, you bastard. It's –” Romano started, but Spain cut him off with a short laugh.

“It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't my fault. There was no malicious intent on either side. It just didn't work out,” he said.

It was a relief to hear that, but it soothed only some of Romano's worries.

“What about France?” he asked.

“Well, that's a little more complicated,” Spain replied and took a sip of his juice, leaning back and crossing his legs like he was just relaxing for a siesta and not talking about his asshole of an ex-boyfriend.

“France is an idiot,” Romano said.

“I kind of have to agree.” Spain's tone hadn't changed one bit. He still sounded happy and content like they were just chatting about the weather. “But I feel a little sorry for him.”

“What? Why?”

“For someone who claims to be the expert in the matters of the heart, he's doing a terrible job at it. But I'm sure he's going to come around and realise his mistake.”

Romano stared at Spain with a disbelieving frown. “And then? Are you just going to take him back like nothing happened?”

Spain laughed heartily and put down his glass. “No. Not at all. I already know what I'm going to do, and he's not going to like it very much.”

Now Romano knew that Prussia had been right. Spain didn't need pity; he could stand on his own two legs and take care of himself. Romano had no idea what Spain could possibly be planning, but it was reassuring to know that he wasn't just going to let France walk all over him.

“It wasn't all France's fault. We moved a little too fast. I'm not surprised he got scared, but I didn't expect him to panic and put an end to it like that,” Spain said.

Romano snorted. “Don't make excuses for him. He's a bastard.”

“I thought you might have developed immunity against bastards by now.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

“I hear you and Prussia have grown pretty close lately.”

“No, we haven't! It's nothing! He's just a clingy loser, and I feel sorry for him, so I can't just tell him to fuck off!” Yeah, right. He was so clingy that he still hadn't sent Romano that text he had been waiting for since he had woken up.

“At first I thought it was a little strange, but I guess you do have a few things common,” Spain said.

“I'm nothing like him!”

“As you wish.” Spain paused and let out a content sigh as he observed the cracks in the ceiling of the porch. “So, when are you going to ask him out?”

“W-what? I wouldn't – Why – I don't want to ask him out!”

“Why not? You like him, right?”

“Of course not! I don't like him! Why would I like him?”

Spain's knowing smile told Romano that he didn't believe a word of what he was saying. That was one infuriating side in Spain; when he got an idea, no matter how stupid it was, he refused to change his mind about it. It didn't matter that he was kind of right this time. He still had no right to keep insisting, like this was somehow his business and like Romano wanted to talk about it. Because he didn't!

“I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I thought you wanted to get better at expressing your real feelings. So, why not just ask Prussia out if you want it so bad?”

Romano gritted his teeth and turned his eyes to his hands. Spain had a point, even if he hated to admit it. If he wanted to get out of the prison he had built for himself, he would have to learn to take risks and get out of his comfort zone. It was a frightening thought, and he wasn't sure whether he was ready for it.

“I don't want to,” he said. “I can't make myself that vulnerable before him. I don't know what I'd do if he said no. It's better I don't say anything.”

In other words, his heart whispered to him, it was better to be lonely and miserable than risk rejection.

Spain let out a long hum. “I can't tell you what his answer would be. He hasn't talked to me about you.”

“That just shows he doesn't give a damn.”

“Maybe, or maybe he thinks it would be awkward to talk to your ex. Prussia can be a gentleman when he feels like it.”

Romano couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, right! He's the biggest asshole I've ever met! He doesn't care about anyone but himself!”

That wasn't true, he knew. In his own way, Prussia had been very supportive of him and offered him  
just the right kind of comfort when he had needed it. But if he ignored that and pretended that he was exactly as much of an asshole as he said, he had one more reason to bury his feelings inside him. After all, why take the risk when the other person sucked so much that it was hopeless?

“That's what he wants everyone to believe. He's not that bad, really. He's actually a little vulnerable, but don't tell him I've noticed. His pride wouldn't be able to take it,” Spain said with a chuckle.

He stood up, stretched his back and picked up his glass. “Do you want more juice?”

“No,” Romano muttered.

He sighed and closed his eyes once Spain had disappeared into the house. Spain was right. He would have to tell Prussia that he liked him. If he didn't, he'd regret it soon. Someone like Prussia probably didn't sit on his ass for long; he'd find someone else. And Romano was sure that watching him be happy with someone who wasn't him would hurt more than rejection.

He'd – he'd figure out something. And the first step was that he'd stop waiting for that stupid text and send him one himself.

Romano dug out his phone and started writing a message. Or rather, he stared at the blank screen, his head equally empty. Should he apologize for the tantrum from the previous evening? He hated apologizing and admitting he was wrong, but it wasn't so bad when it wasn't face to face. But would that make it worthless? Should he wait until they met again?

Maybe he should ask him why he hadn't come to the world meeting. Then again, that would sound clingy. He could always blame him for the wasted lunch box, but that might make Prussia angry, especially since he hadn't apologized yet and – 

“Dammit,” Romano growled and tossed his phone by his side on the bench. He'd send that stupid text later when he had had more time to think.

***

After lunch, Spain announced that he was going to start working on the bathroom so that the renovations would be finished within a week. He showed Romano what he had in mind; he wanted to replace the tiles on the floor and walls and create an abstract picture that reached from one end of the room to the other.

“That's going to take forever,” Romano complained and let his eyes wander around the room.

The tiles on the floor had been replaced already, and there was now a terrible contrast with the blue floor and the brown walls. Romano supposed it might look nice once everything was finished, but right now it only made him sick.

“Come on, help me with the sink. I have to take it out so that I can reach the tiles that are behind the plumbing,” Spain said.

“Why don't you hire someone else to do it, idiot? This is going to end up in a catastrophe.”

“No, no, it's going to be fine. Okay, now just hold the sink here while I take out the tiles.” 

Spain turned around and rummaged in his toolbox. Then he walked to the bathtub, looked behind the shower curtain and finally into the cupboards. All this time, Romano stood in the shower booth, supporting the sink and feeling all strength slowly leave his arms.

“What the hell are you doing? I'm getting tired!” Romano snapped.

Spain scratched his head. “I can't remember where I put my chisel. I'm sure I – oh, right! I left it in the kitchen. I'll be right back. Just don't let the sink fall. It's antique.”

If Romano hadn't been struggling to keep that goddamn sink from falling over, he would have gone and kicked Spain in the balls.

“Hurry!” he snarled as Spain waltzed to fetch the chisel.

***

Prussia had tried playing WoW the whole day, hoping to distract himself for a while, but it was turning out to be an impossible task. He kept thinking back to the first day of the meeting and switching between feeling pissed off at Romano's childish stupidity and worried that he really had meant what he said.

Romano was so close to Spain that maybe he really did hate him for staying in touch with France. If that was the case, then Prussia didn't know what else to do but punch a wall. He wasn't going to turn his back on an old friend just because that little bitch had a permanent attitude problem. At the same time, he wanted to strangle France for ruining what had otherwise been such a perfect day.

When he failed yet again to finish a quest successfully, he quit the game and threw off his headphones in frustration. Things were going nowhere, and he couldn't stand this waiting. He had to do something.

And that something was calling Romano right now. Fuck texts. They could be easily ignored. But if he called him and told him that he was coming to Rome right now so that they could talk, there was no way that Romano could say no to that.

No way.

He selected Romano from his contact list and called him. Nothing happened, but Prussia was stubborn and refused to give up. When the voice on the end told him that nobody was answering, he simply tried again and again.

Finally, someone picked up the phone

“What the hell took you so long?” he asked.

"Oh, hi, Prussia! Sorry, Romano's not here right now. He left his phone at the porch."

Prussia blinked. That happy voice certainly didn't belong to Romano. 

"What? Spain, is that you? What are you doing there?"

"What do you mean? This is my house."

Oh, so Romano was visiting Spain. So much for just dropping by for a talk, then. But maybe that was for the best. Spain might get Romano to calm down a little.

"Okay. And where's Romano?"

"He's in the shower. I'm joining him in a minute; I just need to pick up a few things first."

"Uh, what –" Prussia started, but he was cut off when Romano's voice could suddenly be heard in the background.

"Spain, you bastard! What are you doing? Get in here already! This thing is – I can't take it anymore! I need you! Now!"

Spain laughed. "Calm down, okay? We've got the whole day." Next, his voice became clearer when he started talking to the phone again. "Sorry, I've got to go. He's so impatient when he gets like that. I'll tell him that you called and then he can –"

"No!" Prussia said. "Wait, actually I wasn't even meaning to call him. I wanted to call Romania, but I hit the wrong button on my phone, haha."

“Well, okay, but –”

“Bye!”

Prussia hung up before Spain could finish. His heart was beating in his chest as he stared at the phone and wondered if he had misheard that whole exchange. But he knew he hadn't. Romano's voice was still ringing in his ears, and he didn't think he was going to forget his words any time soon.

“Alright, calm down,” he said to himself. There was no need to jump to stupid conclusions. Just because it had sounded like that didn't necessarily mean that Spain and Romano were about to have hot sex in the shower. There could be numerous other explanations, such as... Well, there were plenty of them.

There was no way that Romano could be getting it on with Spain when Prussia was right there. He was ten times hotter. Then again, he still didn't know whether his kind of hotness, despite being the best, matched Romano's tastes. Spain's, on the other hand, did. But no problem! He had a great sense of humour... even if Romano tended to find it aggravating most of the time. They had a great time when they hung out together and could talk about their problems with each other... like all friends.

But they weren't just friends! Well, technically they were, but Prussia was sure that they had been well on their way to becoming something more.

He whirled around on his office chair in frustration. Now that the seed of doubt had been planted, he couldn't stop thinking about the possibility. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

There was no going around it. He had to know for sure. And he of all nations knew that the best way to confirm something was to resort to spying.

He ignored the stab of guilt that came from sticking his nose into other people's private business and turned once more around on his chair to face his computer. Now was high time to put Germany's credit card to good use and buy a plane ticket.

***

It was already getting dark by the time Romano and Spain were finished in the bathroom. Every part of Romano's body ached, and he was certain that if he were to lie down, he'd fall asleep right away. And worst of all, he was hungry, and it wasn't dinner time yet.

“The whole days was wasted. You've just been using me as a slave ever since I got here,” he complained.

“You invited yourself over,” Spain reminded him. “Let's get washed in the well outside. Then I'll fix us some slight snacks.”

“I want _bacalao._ ”

“You should have told me earlier. I don't have any cod. But don't be cranky; I'm sure I'll manage to find something nice.”

“Then at least hurry. I'm starving.”

The water in the well was cold and felt wonderful after spending the whole day working. Romano wasn't usually so productive. He hadn't minded the tomato fields, but the work in the bathroom had been hard and boring. He had let his irritation be known by complaining every chance he got, just so that Spain would know what a sacrifice he was making by sticking by his side. He sure hoped the idiot appreciated it.

He went to sit outside on the porch and picked up his phone. No messages or calls. Hell, it really looked like he was going to have to take the first step in this matter and show that loser that he didn't need his initiative if he wanted to send him a text.

Okay. He could do this. He'd just say something completely irrelevant, like complain about how hard Spain was being on him and that it would take a week before he'd stop aching. Once Prussia replied, he'd sneakily direct the conversation to other topics and maybe consider apologizing.

Feeling satisfied with himself, Romano sent the text and put his phone aside.

Since it was getting so dark, he got up and lit the lanterns that Spain kept on his porch. Their light was dull and flickering, leaving shadows dancing at the edges of where it reached. It was relaxing to just watch it and lean back. He would have probably fallen asleep if that hadn't been the moment when Spain came outside with _banderillas._

“Finally. Took you long enough.”

“It was barely fifteen minutes.”

“Whatever.” Romano reached out to take one of the sticks that held pieces of cucumber and other vegetables. He took an olive into his mouth, glad to finally have something to eat.

“So,” Spain said. “Did you already ask him out?”

“Shut up! I'm eating.”

“Okay, okay. I'll wait. You'll be less cranky when you've filled your stomach.”

Even though he was starving, Romano ate slowly to win some time. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to discuss. Spain had figured out that he was interested in Prussia, and that was that. He couldn't help to ease Romano's doubts. Only Prussia could, but first Romano would have to find the courage to confront him.

“These turned out better than usual. I used that vinegar I made last month. I wish I had written down just what I put into it,” Spain said as he finished his share.

“You're so stupidly disorganized.”

“Like you're any better.”

Spain smiled when Romano was finally done eating. “So, about Prussia –”

“Do we really have to talk about this? I'm tired,” Romano whined.

“No if you really don't feel like it. I just wanted to make sure that you know what the right thing to do is.”

“Like I need you to tell me.” Romano turned his eyes to his empty plate.

“Then will you do it?” Spain asked.

“What does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters,” Spain said gently. “I want you to be happy. And I want Prussia to be happy. You're both my friends.”

“Doesn't that just make it worse? What if something goes wrong? Whose side will you pick?”

Spain chuckled. “I hope I wouldn't have to pick a side and that neither of you would ask for that.”

Crap, like Romano needed one more reason to feel bad about his angry outburst. But he hated France anyway, he reasoned. It wasn't that serious. He'd... just figure out a way to let Prussia know that he had again blurted out things that he didn't really mean.

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

“I'm sure it's going to go just fine.”

“I didn't say I'll do anything!” Really, why did everyone keep pushing him? Prussia was just as capable of making the first move. He should be the one to do it. Then Romano wouldn't have to worry about rejection because he would be the one who held that power.

Spain got up and came over to sit by Romano's side on the bench. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and leaned against him, pressing his cheek against his.

“Keep your hands to yourself!” Romano snapped.

“Aww, don't be like that. I'm just offering you some comfort since you're so worried.”

“Did I say I wanted that?” 

“You aren't struggling.”

“Fuck you.”

Romano supposed Spain had a point, though. He was nervous, and even if there was nothing Spain could do to change that, it was nice to know that he wasn't alone. Even if everything with Prussia went to hell, he'd always have Spain as a friend.

***

Prussia cursed under his breath for the tenth time. It looked like the easy life in Germany's basement had made him rusty. He hadn't brought any helpful equipment with him, but right now he would have killed for some binoculars with night-vision. As it was, he had no choice but to keep his distance so that he wouldn't be noticed.

So far, nothing interesting had happened, and he was starting to feel like an idiot. He had wasted his only chance to use Germany's credit card on a trip to Spain that wasn't even fun. Maybe he should just go over to Spain and Romano and say that he had decided to surprise them. They could do something fun together and –

Wait, wait, what was that? What was Spain doing? He was suddenly sitting awfully close to Romano and leaning even closer. Was he kissing him? From this distance it was hard to tell, but it sure looked like it.

Yeah, he was probably kissing him. And Romano wasn't fighting back.

All things considered, Prussia supposed he should have seen it coming. The whole scenario was straight out of a movie. Romano was the protagonist who made a stupid mistake and dumped his boyfriend because he needed time alone. Spain was the boyfriend who got involved with someone bad. France was the asshole who treated Spain wrong, and that made Romano realise what his true feelings for Spain were.

And where did Prussia fit in? He supposed he was the boyfriend's friend who provided ineffective romantic advice and comic relief. Boy, he sure had filled that role well! For a moment, he had thought he might have a chance and get his happy ending. What a joke.

He snorted and supposed the right thing to do was to be a good sport and leave the love birds to themselves. He'd later congratulate them and then maybe go drinking with France. Heck, maybe the two of them would fall back into their friends with benefits routine.

The thought left him feeling awfully empty. That wasn't enough for him anymore. And he didn't want to be with France.

This was why he had avoided relationships for such a long time. Experience had shown him that they didn't work for him, so it had been foolish to get his hopes up this time. Well, he had learnt his lesson and wouldn't be making the same mistake again.

Time to go back home, he guessed. He was reminded of the day in Paris when he had interrupted France and Spain in the middle of their budding relationship. It had hurt, but one thing was different now.

No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't just smile and laugh and walk away like he didn't care. Not this time.


	18. Chapter 18

“Don't worry, Romano. I'm sure he's just busy.”

Romano didn't look up from the surface of the table at his brother's words. It wasn't just that he was angry and worried; everything that he usually loved in Veneziano's kitchen had become dull and uninteresting. Even the scent of the boiling tomato sauce didn't improve his mood, and he had declined when Veneziano had asked him to help him with the vegetables. All because Prussia wasn't replying to his texts.

“With what?” he asked. “He doesn't have a job.”

“Maybe Germany let him help out with something again.”

Romano snorted. “Then he would have sent me a message to brag about it and how he's going to take the next world meeting by storm.” Or at least he hoped so. He hated the thought that there might be something important going on in Prussia's life and that he didn't want to share it with him.

“Maybe he wants to surprise you,” Veneziano suggested happily. “He didn't tell you last time, remember?”

“He wouldn't surprise me like that twice. It's not fun.”

Veneziano hummed as he stirred the sauce. “Then why don't you call him and ask him?”

“I don't want to,” Romano grumbled. He could tell; Prussia didn't want to talk to him. Because of that, another part of him was terrified of poking further. Then he might find out _why_ Prussia didn't want to talk to him, and he didn't want to know that.

“Why not?”

“Because I can't! He must be still angry at me about what I said. I bet he hates me!”

“I don't think so. But you know,” Veneziano said, pausing to taste the sauce. “Maybe this is the world's way of telling you that you should sometimes apologize for the things you say. I know you don't mean it, but words can hurt even if they aren't true.”

Romano said nothing as he continued leaning his chin on his hand. Veneziano was right. Spain was right. There was only one thing that could help him put an end to this pointless sulking. He'd have to talk to Prussia. First he'd apologize. Then he'd... at least try to tell him how he felt. Maybe.

The mere thought made his stomach do somersaults. He had never done that before. Sure, he'd told Spain a few times that he loved him, but it had always been situations in which he didn't feel threatened. Like when Spain had been half asleep. Or too far away to hear him. Or had just said the same thing himself so all Romano had to do was repeat it.

God, he had been a pretty shitty boyfriend. Maybe he should just find the courage to finally talk to Prussia and avoid at least that pitfall.

Tomorrow. He'd do it tomorrow. First he'd have dinner with his brother and sleep. Then he'd call Prussia. Tomorrow there would be no more excuses.

***

Germany had long since realised that when Prussia turned up the volume so high that he could feel the vibration of the music on the floor, he was usually trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Germany was worried, but at the same time he supposed that Prussia wouldn't have tried to hide it if he had wanted to talk. So, partly out of respect for his brother's privacy and partly because he felt awkward, he rarely confronted Prussia about it.

But Prussia usually got over his problems in a day or two. This time it had been going on for nearly half a week. The neighbours were complaining more than usual. The dogs were getting restless, and it wasn't like Germany enjoyed the constant attack against his ears either.

The door to the basement was locked. He had tried knocking, but either Prussia didn't hear him or didn't want to see him. It was probably the latter since the only times Prussia got out of his den was when he came to the kitchen to get more beer, and he timed these little adventures so that Germany was never there to confront him.

So, Germany did what almost any little brother would have done in that situation. He stopped buying beer. It took approximately a day and a half for Prussia to finish their current stock and come to the realisation that there was none left.

Germany caught him in the kitchen just when he was about to slam the fridge shut.

“What the fuck, West? Where's all the beer?”

“I didn't buy any today.”

“And why the hell not?”

Prussia looked terrible. His hair was even messier than usual. His eyes were tired and framed with black circles that revealed that he hadn't got much sleep over the past few days. Germany was pretty sure he was wearing the same shirt as when he had stumbled home earlier that week. It was dreadfully obvious that he hadn't taken a shower since then.

“Because beer is not the solution to your problems,” he said.

“It was working perfectly until you decided to be an ass.”

Germany sighed. “I don't know what's wrong, but locking yourself in the basement isn't going to help.”

“What the hell do you care? I can do whatever I want. Go fuck your boyfriend or whatever and leave me alone, okay?”

Ah. Germany suddenly felt a little foolish for not having realised it sooner. Of course. Prussia must have told Romano about his feelings and had been rejected. He supposed he should have known that it would end like this, but for a moment he had been hopeful that it would work out.

“I'm sorry,” he said awkwardly. “If you want to talk about it –”

“Why? So that you can tell me you knew from the start it was doomed to fail? No, thanks. I know now.”

Prussia finally gave the fridge door the slam that had been coming. It sounded like the milk bottle fell over and broke from the force of it, but for once Germany was too occupied with other things to feel irritated about the mayhem he'd see next time he opened the fridge.

“That's not what I meant. I hate it that I was right,” he said, running his hand through his hair and not even realising he was making a mess of it. “I really wanted it to work.”

Prussia snorted. “Yeah, well, we can't always have what we want. Or at least I can't. So why don't you take your stupid money that you earn by representing this stupid country in those stupid meetings with your boyfriend and go buy me more beer? Because _that's_ what I really want right now!”

“No,” Germany said firmly. “That's not going to help.”

“Then fuck you. I'm going to get some myself.” Prussia turned around and was about to march to the basement to get his wallet, but Germany wasn't going to let him go without at least trying to make him see reason.

“Prussia, this is ridiculous. I know you're hurt, but you have to get a hold of yourself. This isn't right. This is –”

“Pathetic? Good because that's what I feel like right now.” Prussia took one more step towards the basement, but then he stopped again. “It's nothing. Just watch. I'm going to get over it. That little piece of shit isn't going to hold me down for long. I just need some more beer and everything will be fine,” he said.

Germany knew he was right. History had shown the whole world that Prussia couldn't be beaten, not even if you took his lands and people away from him. A broken heart would be nothing more than a scratch for him, and scratches faded soon.

“West, stop looking like you're attending a funeral. I'm fine. I just have to get this out of my system. Give me a few more days and I'll have forgotten who Romano even is,” Prussia said and gave him a confident thumbs-up. 

With that, Prussia disappeared into the basement. He soon emerged again, pulling on a jacket and holding his wallet between his teeth.

Germany didn't try to stop him this time. He watched his brother disappear through the front door and slam it shut. For a moment, he remained standing there, but then he moved to open the fridge and inspect the damage.

As he had guessed, the milk bottle had broken and spilled its contents all over the fridge. Thankfully almost everything else could be salvaged, and he methodically removed the cheese, sausages and other items so that he could wipe away the spilled milk. Germany was glad that he was in the habit of closing the boxes and wrappers tightly. Otherwise he would have had to throw them all away.

He felt helpless about Prussia's situation, but cleaning up the mess in the fridge was a comforting routine. He knew from experience that Prussia liked to lick his wounds alone. Germany was the same, and he was sure he had learnt that from his brother. However, the time he had spent with Italy had taught him that there were some things that one had to do matter how awkward they felt. Like comforting those he cared about. Right now he wished he were better at it.

Germany frowned as he wondered what Romano had to have said to make Prussia that upset. A simple, straightforward rejection shouldn't have got under his skin like that. Only a few years ago, Prussia had just shrugged it off when Denmark had told him he'd like to pursue Norway. He had even offered to give him tips, though Denmark had declined, perhaps wisely.

Then again, this was Romano. He had probably yelled more insults at Prussia than Germany knew existed. Prussia had seemed so sincere about this. It must have been a great blow to his confidence to crash and burn before he had even taken off.

Germany gritted his teeth. Even if that was typical behaviour for Romano, he should have been a little more considerate. Prussia wasn't as tough as he wanted everyone to believe. And even then, telling someone that you didn't return their feelings always had to be done with care.

Germany could only hope that this incident wouldn't cause any trouble between him and Italy. It was already awkward enough when he visited him and Romano was around. After this... He didn't even want to imagine it. He probably wouldn't be able to bring Prussia along anymore.

Prussia returned twenty minutes later with as much beer as he could carry. Germany watched him restock the fridge.

“You could drink here in the kitchen with me,” he suggested.

Prussia lifted his brows in surprise. “Why? Something bothering you?”

“Yes. You.”

“Come on! I told you I'll be fine. Go do some paperwork or something. It must be getting on your nerves to be so unproductive on a Tuesday evening.”

“That can wait,” Germany said, and he didn't know whether to feel relieved or guilty about the way Prussia laughed at his words. He was finally smiling again, but was this really funny? Did he usually spend so much time working that his own brother thought it was a great joke he wanted to spend time with him?

“Really, I appreciate this protective little brother shtick you've got going, but it's not necessary. All I need are these guys here,” Prussia said and lifted three bottles of beer, “and Gilbird and some awesome time for myself.”

“Well, if you're sure,” Germany said and watched Prussia descend to the basement.

There was the sound of the door being locked. Not soon after, the terrible music started again. The dogs tried to hide under the couch. Germany decided then and there that this time he wasn't just going to stand aside and wait for Prussia to get back on his feet on his own. He'd help him somehow, but to do that, he'd first have to find out just what Romano had said to him.

***

They were in the middle of having dinner when Veneziano's phone started ringing. Romano didn't even look up from his pasta as his brother fumbled to take out his phone and answered.

“Oh, hello, Germany! How are you?”

Great. Now he'd have to listen to his brother's sickening babbling. Just what he needed. Did the universe hate him or something?

Germany had probably called Veneziano to wish him a good night or something equally embarrassing and lame. Romano wasn't jealous, he told himself as he shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth and tried to ignore how happy Veneziano sounded.

“Huh, what's wrong with Prussia?” 

Now Romano looked up. He watched his brother to get some kind of idea about what the bastard was saying, but it was difficult to tell. The confused frown on Veneziano's face revealed him nothing. He couldn't even say if it was serious or not.

The bastard had better not be sick, he thought. And he definitely had better not have broken his neck after stumbling down the stairs after drinking too much.

“I know nothing about that,” Veneziano said. “You should have called Romano, not me. I'll give him the phone. No, no, it's okay, really, don't hang up!”

Veneziano offered his phone to him. “Germany wants to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“He said that you broke Prussia's heart and that he's been drinking in his basement ever since. Really, that's not very nice of you,” Veneziano said with a disapproving frown and shoved the phone into Romano's hand.

“W-what? But I never –” Romano looked down at the phone and then brought it up to his ear. “What the fuck is this?”

“Er... Sorry for calling so late.”

“Yeah, you interrupted my dinner, you bastard! And what the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I just... It wasn't really you I wanted to talk to.”

“Yeah, I figured. So, you just wanted to badmouth me to my brother or what?”

“No, nothing like that. I thought he could tell me a little about what is going on. I want to help Prussia, but he won't talk to me,” Germany said.

“What makes you think Veneziano would know anything?”

“I thought you might have told him something. I'm sorry. It's none of my business, but I'm just a little worried about what you said to him.”

Romano felt his stomach clench. Fuck. This was about his stupid temper tantrum with France. He would have never thought that Prussia would be so upset that he'd even tell Germany about it. How embarrassing!

“L-listen! What I said to him is none of your business! If it bugs him then he should call me himself!”

“What would it help if he did?”

“Well, what does it help if you call me? I'm not going to tell you anything, so you can go and say to your stupid brother that if he has a problem with me, he had better stop being a wuss and making his little brother solve his problems for him!”

Germany was silent for a moment. “Do you even know how much you've hurt him?”

“What?”

“He probably told you it doesn't matter or that he wasn't being serious in the first place, but that's not true. I hope you weren't too hard on him.”

Romano didn't know what to say. All this time, he had thought Prussia was avoiding him because he was angry. It hadn't even crossed his mind that he might be feeling hurt. Prussia was tougher than this! Romano had said worse things to him, and it just wasn't like him to act this way.

“Why the hell did he take it that badly? I didn't mean it like that!” he snapped.

“It doesn't matter how you meant it,” Germany said in exasperation. “When you... You have to be careful when you reject someone. I know I shouldn't stick my nose into this, but Prussia is my brother and –”

“Wait, what the hell are you even talking about?”

“About what you said to Prussia.”

“Yeah, I told him he and France can go to hell because they're being asses to Spain. I have no idea where you're getting all these stupid ideas from!”

“But... Didn't you...? I mean... Wait, are you talking about the first day of the meeting in Berlin?”

“Yeah. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Uh...” There was a moment of awkward silence. “Maybe I'll call you back.”

“Don't bother. I'm not talking to you about my life!” Romano snarled. He hung up before Germany had the time to object and tossed the phone on the table.

“You weren't very polite to him. He's just worried about Prussia,” Veneziano said.

“Prussia is being a total crybaby. I've told him to go to hell before. It's nothing. It's certainly not a goddamn rejection!” Romano snapped and shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, only to notice that it wasn't warm enough anymore. Well, dammit, now the bastard had totally ruined his dinner, too.

Not that he had much of an appetite left. Even if Germany's rambling hadn't made any sense, there was still the fact that Prussia was acting like a social recluse and feeling miserable. And it was because of him.

“It sounds like you've hurt his feelings. You should apologize.”

“Hmph!”

“Don't you feel bad that Prussia is sad because of you? I would feel bad if Germany was crying because of something I did or said. I would apologize right away and hug him and cook him my best pasta!”

“You do all that anyway!”

“Of course! That's because Germany is very important to me, and I want him to know that every day! I think you would feel a lot better if you did the same thing to Prussia. And I'm sure he would, too!”

“I'm never going to fawn over him like you do to Germany! That's disgusting!” Romano snapped. And yet he couldn't deny that Veneziano had a point. He wouldn't even be in this situation if he didn't suck so much at communicating his feelings.

But it wasn't all his fault. He had the feeling that there was something that was being left unsaid on Prussia and Germany's side of the affair. Since nobody else was making any sense, it looked like Romano would have to be the one to fix everything. It was time to stop with the excuses.

“I'm going to Germany tomorrow,” he announced.

“Oh, that's nice! Have a great time!” Veneziano said.

“Aren't you coming?” Romano asked, his determination wavering a little. Some support would be nice when entering enemy territory.

“I'd love to, but I just have so much work, especially since you haven't been helping me enough. Whatever it is that you're going to do there, you just have to deal with it by yourself.” Veneziano paused and hummed in thought. “Unless you feel like you can't do it without me.”

“I don't need you!” Romano snapped at once. “I only asked because I thought you'd cry if you can't see the bastard again!”

“Thanks, but I just saw him at the meeting last week. But say hello to him for me!”

“Dream on.”

***

And so Romano found himself ringing the doorbell of Germany's house the next day. He was no longer sure that this was the best course of action, but there was no other option. He couldn't think of any other way to bring light to the situation. The past two weeks had been filled with more than his share of worries and indecision, so he had had enough. This was it.

The door was opened, and he was face to face with Germany. Despite his earlier determination, Romano suddenly felt tempted to turn around and run for it.

“W-well, aren't you going to let me in?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find out what the hell is wrong with your brother since you aren't making any sense.”

“I don't think that's a very good idea. I don't know if he even wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well, see if you can stop me, asshole,” Romano said. He'd have no chance if Germany decided to throw him out by force, but he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. Despite his threatening demeanour, he hadn't seen Germany get physical with anyone in a long time.

Germany hesitated, but then he stepped aside to let him enter. “Don't tell me I didn't warn you. I'm not even sure if he's awake.”

“It's the afternoon!”

“Yes, well,” Germany said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's like I said. He hasn't been doing much else but drinking lately.”

“And you let him? God, you suck.”

Romano marched to the kitchen and into the utility room. He stopped there when he tried the door and found it locked.

“Don't you have a key?” he asked and shot an expectant glare at Germany.

“There's only one, and Prussia has it.”

“Then hand me a piece of wire.”

“But what –”

“Hand me that piece of wire or I'll tell my brother something horrible about you that will make him dump you!”

Germany frowned but went to rummage around in one of the cupboards to their left. “Is there anything left you haven't tried already?” he asked in irritation when he finally found what he was looking for and handed it to Romano.

“Don't try me.”

Romano pushed the end of the wire into the lock and poked around with it until he heard the very satisfying click of the door unlocking. He snorted smugly; that had been far too easy.

“Do I even want to know where you learned to do that?” Germany asked as Romano gave the piece of wire back to him.

“Like I'd tell you,” Romano said. He pushed the door open and walked down the stairs to the small basement room.

It was dark safe for the light of Prussia's screensaver, so Romano had to fumble along the wall until he found the lightswitch. As soon as he could see around him, he felt tempted to turn the light back off and pretend that he had never seen the mess before him. The room was completely different from before.

There were so many bottles scattered around the floor that he wouldn't be able to walk from one end of the room to the other without kicking them out of his way. Even worse was the stench of beer that hung around the basement and made Romano wrinkle his nose. At first he didn't see Prussia anywhere, but then there was movement under the blanket on the couch.

“Go away, West,” came a mumbled command.

Romano ignored that and marched to the couch. He grabbed a handful of the blanket, pulled it off and revealed the pathetic figure underneath.

“Hey, I said –” Prussia started angrily, but he never finished as he noticed that it wasn't Germany who was bothering him.

Romano wasn't sure what to make of the sight that greeted him. Prussia was a total mess, like he hadn't bothered to take care of himself in a week. He smelled like that, too. He was curled up on the couch with a Nintendo DS in his hands, like he had fallen asleep in the middle of playing something.

“What are you doing here?” Prussia asked.

“You haven't been replying to my messages, so I thought you were avoiding me. And then your brother called me last evening and told me all this stupid shit that doesn't make any sense,” Romano said.

Prussia looked at him in alarm. “What did he say?”

“That you're being a total loser. And he blamed it on me! So I had to come here and see it for myself, and turns out he was right. Just what the hell is up with you? You're a mess! This isn't like you!”

Romano expected Prussia to reply to his insults with a few of his own, like he always did, so he was surprised when he simply lowered his head and sighed.

“I know,” Prussia said. “I know. Sorry. I'm not very good company right now. Come back in a few days and we'll do something awesome, but I'm just not feeling up to it at the moment.”

“Is this about what I said last week? Because if it is then you're totally overreacting. I was pissed off at France, not you! Are you really so stupid that you're sulking here because of that? God, you suck!”

“It's my room, so I can suck as much as I want! What is it to you anyway? I didn't ask you to come here and ruin my day! I was having a great time before you woke me up!” For emphasis, Prussia showed the DS to him. Then he noticed that it wasn't on. “Fuck, the battery ran out! I didn't save!”

Prussia threw the console to his side on the couch in anger, but Romano got the feeling it wasn't really the game that made him so upset. He was about to comment on what a child he was being, but then he noticed something that he had thought he'd never see.

"Why are you crying?”

Prussia brought his hand up and wiped his eyes with his palm. "Oh, this?" he asked with a hollow chuckle. "It's, uh... I'm just so happy for you."

"I have no idea what you're talking, you moron," Romano said. He found it difficult to keep looking at Prussia. He knew all too well how uncomfortable and embarrassing it was to start crying in front of someone.

“You and Spain. Man, it's so awesome you got back together. I was planning to call you and congratulate you, but I was a little busy.”

“I can see that,” Romano said and gave the sea of beer bottles a criticizing glare. He wondered if he should just ignore everything for now and not make a great number out of Prussia's tears, or if it would be better to try to say something comforting.

Then again, what Prussia had just said was so utterly stupid that he couldn't just let it go. “And what the hell is this crap about –”

“You know, this isn't a very good time, okay?” Prussia picked himself up from the couch and sat on the edge of it, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to make himself look a little more presentable. No success. “You could have at least called.”

“No point since you weren't even replying to my texts!”

“Then maybe you could have taken the hint and figured out that I didn't want to talk to you! I can deal with this on my own!”

Romano could do nothing but stare. Whatever the hell was going on here was making less and less sense by the second.

“What's this about me and Spain? Where did you hear that?” he asked.

“Doesn't matter. It was cool that you came to check up on me, but right now I'd rather do some stuff alone.”

“And continue trying to drown in beer? To hell with that! Both you and your stupid brother just keep circling the problem and won't tell me just what the fuck is going on here! I'm not going anywhere before you give me some answers!” Romano yelled. And, he added in his mind, he wouldn't be leaving until Prussia was doing a little better. He couldn't leave him like this.

Prussia was quiet for a moment. “Fuck it,” he finally said. “I guess there's no point in hiding it. I've got nothing to lose anymore, and I'm just too awesome for moping around like this.”

He drew a deep breath. “Okay. I lied that I'm happy for you and Spain. I'm not. I'm damn jealous and angry and sad and whatever the fuck. I wanted to have you, but he was faster and better. That's my life, I guess.”

“W-what?” Romano stammered. He couldn't have heard that right. It was impossible. “Say that again.”

“What? That my life sucks?”

“No!” Romano sat down on the couch so that he wasn't towering over Prussia anymore. His heart was beating in his chest, and he was sure it would burst out if he didn't hear those words again right away. This was exactly what he had wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to be happy about it when Prussia was on the verge of breaking into tears again. “What you said before that.”

Prussia chuckled. “Didn't know you were such a sadist. But okay. I wanted you for myself. We could have been the most awesome couple ever. Whatever. Doesn't matter anymore.” He leaned back on the couch and flashed him a confident grin. “Just watch. I'll get over it.”

“Don't even think about it,” Romano growled. “And the first thing I want you to do right now is to stop sulking. I'm not back together with Spain.”

“Wha –”

“I don't even know where you got that stupid idea from! What the hell? Who told you that crap?”

Prussia was staring at him with wide eyes. “But you... You were with Spain just the other day!”

“Yeah, I helped him out around the house. Am I not allowed to visit my friends or what?” Romano shook his head. They'd talk about that and Prussia's insane imagination later. Right now there were far more pressing matters at hand, and he needed to use this chance before he got cold feet. Now was the moment. This was what everyone had been telling him to do, so he had better not fail.

He made sure Prussia was looking at him before he continued. “Listen, idiot. There has been absolutely nothing between me and Spain since we broke up. So don't cry because of that. It's stupid.” He clenched his hands into fists, tempted to turn his eyes away but not allowing that escape for himself. “And I hate seeing you cry, especially if it's because of me.”

“So – ” Prussia started, but Romano cut him off.

“I'm not done, so shut the fuck up and let me finish! What I mean is... is that I wouldn't mind that much if we...” He had to stop to catch for breath because it was like his lungs had suddenly stopped working. His brain was desperately trying to send him the signal that he should shut up now before he made a total fool of himself, but these words were coming from his heart and – holy fuck, did he just think something that corny?

Romano was sure his face was now so red that if any more blood rushed to his head, he'd burst a vein. “Dammit, I mean that I wouldn't mind if we became the most awesome couple in the goddamn world because that's what I want as well and just haven't been able to say it! So... so fuck you if you have a problem with that!”

Romano was out of breath when he finished, hearing nothing but his own heartbeat in his ears. Absolutely nothing happened for a moment, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to shove his head under the couch in embarrassment or run upstairs and never come back. Fuck, had he really said something like that? Had those words left his mouth? God, he was such an idiot; Prussia would laugh at him forever and tell everyone, and he'd have to go into hiding in the countryside and... Fuck this all to hell!

“What?” Prussia blurted out. “Are you serious?”

“Why the hell would I lie? Do you think I'd say something like that if I didn't want to be stuck with you? Because you're a total ass and – hey!”

Romano was cut off when Prussia suddenly caught him in his arms. Despite his embarrassment that still made him want to curl up in a hole forever, he didn't try to fight back.

Prussia held him tightly, and Romano knew it was because he had to have him close. The feeling was so overwhelming that he found himself leaning against him and burying his face in the crook of Prussia's neck, trembling after his outburst.

The embrace made him feel a little better and helped him relax. After a while, he no longer felt mortified enough to die. Someone wanted him. Someone needed him in order to be happy.

And God, he wanted Prussia to be happy. So much. This time it wasn't all about Romano's need to feel loved and accepted. This time he had something to give, too, and it was the most satisfying feeling in the world.

“I don't know if I actually believe you said that”, Prussia muttered.

“You had better because I'm not saying it again.”

Prussia laughed, and the relief and joy in his voice made Romano want to hold him forever. Then he quickly changed his mind.

“Goddammit, you need to take a shower!” he snarled and shoved Prussia off him.

“But I wanted to snuggle,” Prussia complained.

“I'm not snuggling with you before you've taken a shower, shaved, brushed your teeth and changed into new clothes! You smell like you've lived a year in a garbage can! What happened to the soldier who kept everything tidy?”

Prussia sniffed at his shirt. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.” Then his face brightened. “Hey, wanna join me?”

“No.”

“Aww.” Prussia got on his feet, picked up a few things from his closet and walked to the door. Once there, he hesitated for a moment. “You're still going to be here when I come back, right?”

“Sure. Someone has to start cleaning up this mess,” Romano said.

He leaned back on the couch after Prussia had disappeared through the door. He felt like he was floating. He was so happy, and yet he could already sense the usual fears and insecurities lurking on the edges of his mind.

Fuck it, he thought and got up to collect the beer bottles on the floor. He was damn happy, as he had every right to be, and he wasn't going to let anything ruin it for him now.

He found a few plastic bags and managed to fill three and a half of them with bottles before the floor was cleared. The stench of beer didn't leave the room, though, so he supposed he would have to wash the floor. While he was at it, he guessed he could take out the trash and maybe do some dusting, too.

Germany was in the kitchen when he went to take the bottles there. They stared at each other for a long time in discomfort. Prussia singing in the shower was the only sound that penetrated the awkward silence.

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?” Romano finally asked.

“In that cupboard. Why?”

“Because if I'm going to have to spend another moment down there, the place had better stop looking like a complete pigsty!”

With that, Romano went to grab a bucket and filled it with water. However, once he marched back downstairs with some of the supplies, he realised that there was simply too much to do. He didn't feel like even getting started.

“That idiot had better help me. It's his mess,” he muttered under his breath and sat down to wait.

After a while, Prussia returned. He was drying his hair on a towel and looking considerably better. It wasn't just the fact that he didn't smell like a dumpster anymore. The grin on his face was what made the biggest difference.

“Getting domestic already?” he asked when he noticed the cleaning supplies.

“Not just me. We're cleaning up this place right now.”

Prussia chuckled and came to sit down with him on the couch. Romano did his best to ignore the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

“What, you're already starting to nag about housework and I haven't even got a single kiss from you yet?” Prussia asked.

“You – you won't get anything if you don't stop being stupid! Look at this place! And besides – hey, what – mmph!”

Before he had the chance to put up his defences, Prussia had leaned closer and caught his lips into a kiss. He grabbed Romano's shoulders and pulled him closer, and Romano was too stunned to resist. All he could think of was that Prussia tasted of mint-flavoured toothpaste.

Just as he was starting to feel good and ready to return the kiss, Prussia let him go and pulled away. Romano was left gasping for breath and wanting more, but Prussia had already jumped to his feet and gone to look at the cleaning supplies.

“I don't even know what these are all for,” he said as he tried to read the labels.

“Bastard!” Romano growled, wiping his mouth.

“What? What did I do?” A devilish grin took over Prussia's features. “Oh, you want more? All you have to do is ask!”

“No fucking way! We're cleaning up this damn place. That was the worst kiss in the world anyway.” Goddamit, Romano wanted to punch that asshole. It had been their first kiss, and not only had it been completely out of nowhere, but Prussia didn't even seem to give a damn about it.

“Okay, I'll give you a better one later. But hey, since you're so determined to make my room shine, that means you're staying for the night, right?”

"What do you think, idiot? It's not like I'm just flying back home after I just got here," Romano said.

Prussia laughed. "Great! Then again, who would say no when I ask? Okay, next question! Are you staying up in the guest room or here on this cool couch with me?"

"Like hell I'm sleeping on these sheets! They smell like you haven't changed them in half a year!" Romano snapped, and his voice was so vicious that Prussia's face immediately fell in disappointment.

"Okay. That's cool," he said and shrugged non-chalantly. "I'll just tell West to prepare the guest room then."

Romano felt like slapping himself. Prussia wasn't Spain; he couldn't tell when Romano was actually angry and when he was just bitching for the sake of it. And that was a good thing. It would force him to think a little more about what he said, just like he had wanted to do for so long now.

"Wait," he said as Prussia was about to go upstairs. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Romano gestured at the couch and snorted. "I meant that we have some laundry to do."

Prussia's brows shot up. “Oh! Then let's do laundry!” He grabbed a hold of the sheets and tried to pull them away from under Romano who was still sitting on the couch.

“Not so fast! Let's talk first.”

“About what?”

Romano leaned back on the couch, crossed his arms on his chest and puffed his cheeks as he turned to glare away. “About us. What exactly are we now?”

“I thought you said you wanted to be my awesome boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but...”

“But what?”

Prussia dropped the sheets and came to sit by his side, frowning in worry. Romano couldn't bring himself to look at him.

“But isn't that a little fast?”

“What, you want to take me out on a test drive first before making up your mind?”

“No!” Romano snapped and forced himself to finally look at Prussia again. He guessed nothing would work if he couldn't even face his direction when they talked. “It's just... That I wasn't expecting this to happen when I came here. I thought I'd just apologize for what I said about you and France and that things would be back to normal.”

“Well, isn't this better?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Prussia sounded insulted. “Hah, high standards, eh? That just means I've got to get right down to convincing you!”

Maybe he was learning how this idiot's mind worked, but this time Romano wasn't surprised when Prussia leaned close and pressed his body against his. And this time he wasn't just going to sit there and take it. He'd show Prussia how an Italian kissed.

***

They needed hours to make the basement look presentable. Romano would have been happy with some light cleaning, but Prussia got really into it and wasn't happy until everything was spotless again. They barely managed to get everything done by the time Germany called them for dinner.

It had to be the most awkward dinner of Romano's life. By now, Germany had figured out what was going on. Then again, that was no surprise because it hadn't taken long for Prussia to stomp triumphantly upstairs to declare that he had the best boyfriend in the world. Germany had offered them a few words of congratulations that had sounded like they had been pulled out with a hook.

Prussia hadn't minded that. According to him, Germany was always like that and would become comfortable with everything in time. Not that Romano cared. He didn't give a damn about what Germany thought.

Romano felt like someone was stirring the contents of his stomach with a beater when it was time to go to bed. There was nothing to be worried about, he knew, but the temptation to run upstairs and lock himself in the guest room was very, very strong. He needed all of his willpower to stand still and watch Prussia fold a bed out of his couch.

“I've never actually had anyone stay over in my room. Can you imagine, you get to be the very first one!”

“Great, must be fun to be the first victim.”

Prussia hopped on the bed and patted the empty spot by his side. “Come on, then! Man, I can't wait to sleep next to my boyfriend for the first time! It's going to rock!”

The enthusiasm Prussia was showing eased Romano's worries somewhat, but he still felt awkward and clumsy as he climbed under the covers after turning off the light. He had to clasp his hands together so that they wouldn't shake.

“Wow, you sure are stiff, and not in the way that you should be when you're sharing the bed with me. What's wrong?” Prussia asked.

“Nothing. Good night.”

“Hey, come on! Don't start doing that again! I think we've both learned a lesson today, and it's that we shouldn't keep things to ourselves if we don't want to cause really stupid and embarrassing misunderstandings.”

“You're the one who caused all that!” Romano snapped, glad for an opening that let him change the subject. “You still haven't told me where you got the idea that I was back together with Spain.”

“In hindsight, that's actually a pretty funny story,” Prussia said and proceeded to tell him all about the phone call with Spain and how he had decided to spy on them. By the end of it, Romano could do nothing but stare at him. It wasn't funny at all.

“That's the stupidest story I have ever heard in my life.”

“Hey, anyone could have jumped to the same conclusion!”

“No way! Any normal person would have asked us what was going on instead of making assumptions like that!”

Prussia snorted. “And what would you have done?”

Romano gritted his teeth, knowing that he would have acted just like Prussia. He liked to imagine that he could have been mature enough to confront the others, but he was sure he would have retreated to sulk in his house until someone came to drag him back to the outside world.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and covered half of his face with the blanket so that only his eyes and hair were visible. Not that it mattered in the dark. “But I wouldn't have been such a loser about it.”

“Uh, well,” Prussia said awkwardly. “That was just a phase, see. It wouldn't have taken long before I'd have crawled back to the top and would have continued being my awesome self!”

“A phase, huh.”

“Okay, that sounded bad. I guess I wouldn't have got over it _that_ fast, but...It really sucked and stuff...” Prussia said, but he drifted off.

“I can't believe you turned into such a mess just because you thought I was with Spain,” Romano said. In truth, he was a little flattered, and that in turn made him feel guilty and flustered. It wasn't right to be so glad over Prussia's misery, but at the same time it was wonderful to know that he mattered that much to him.

“What, you think I should have just shrugged it off? Don't tell me you'd have done that if you thought I was still doing France or something.”

Romano snorted, and silence fell between them.

“Is this even going to work out?” Romano asked then.

“Is that what you're worried about?”

Romano didn't reply. He felt Prussia turn around on the bed so that he was no longer lying on his back but facing him. He couldn't see him in the dark, but their faces couldn't be far apart.

“Why wouldn't it work out?” Prussia asked.

“Because of lots of reasons. What if we just keep fighting all the time? What if you grow tired of me? What... what if you change your mind and decide I'm not good enough? What if you die? Or what if –”

“Hey,” Prussia said to cut him off. “There's no point in worrying about stuff like that. You can't know what's going to happen, so you should just enjoy what you've got now. And I don't think I've marked down a date for dying in my calendar, so at least that's not gonna happen.”

“You just said you can't know.”

“But I also said that you have to be happy now or you'll just be miserable forever because of things that may or may not happen.” Prussia paused to think. “As for the other things, I'll have you know that the awesome me has the best taste in the world. That means you're the best boyfriend ever, so I have no reason to grow tired of you. In fact, I should probably start talking about the awesome us from now on.”

“You're an idiot,” Romano muttered.

“I'm your idiot.”

“Shut up! Can't I have a normal conversation with you anymore?”

“Hey, I'm just trying to get you to stop worrying. But if it's not working, then how about this?”

Romano yelped when he felt Prussia snuggle closer, and he had to make the quick decision of whether he wanted to stay there and let him or back off and fall to the floor. He chose the former, and after a while he was able to relax and enjoy the warmth and the closeness.

“You were right about one thing, though,” Prussia murmured, and Romano felt his breath against his cheek.

“What?”

“We're probably going to end up fighting a lot. I don't mind, but let's always make up afterwards, okay?”

“As long as you aren't being too stupid or anything.”

Romano closed his eyes, not yet ready to fall asleep but wanting to bask in the feeling of safety that had overcome him. Prussia was right. He had no way of knowing what would happen to them in the future, but for now at least he was happy and didn't want to let anything ruin it.


	19. Chapter 19

France dug a hand into the pocket of his tailor-made dress jacket and took out a handkerchief. He pressed it at his face to wipe away the sweat that was threatening to ruin his fresh look and make his perfect hair stick to his head.

He had forgotten how hot it could get in Spain around this time of the day. The jacket, while a lovely, light blue shade, wasn't helping matters. Neither were the leather shoes that he had ordered hand-made and only wore on special occasions. But worst of all was the fact that the taxi he had taken at the airport had refused to take him up the hill to Spain's house.

Well, France supposed he could make the sacrifice of having to walk. He put the handkerchief back and made sure that the little gift basket hanging on the crook of his arm was still fine. He had brought a bottle of his very best wine and some ingredients that he was planning to use to make dinner later that evening. He had considered flowers, but Spain liked practical things, so he had given up on that idea.

Finally he reached the top of the hill and made his way to the front door. The shadowy porch was filled with good memories, but he allowed himself no chance to dwell on them. He had come here for one purpose only, and nothing could distract him.

France was the nation of love and the most experienced and talented in that field, so he knew that he had no reason to feel nervous. He was beyond irresistible. On the other hand, it was exactly because of his vast experience and understanding of the delicacy of feelings that he wasn't sure if this was going to work. He had made a terrible mistake and wounded Spain, and it could be that even his best apology wouldn't mend their relationship.

His knock on the door went unanswered. He was starting to wonder if Spain was even home, but then he heard the sound of someone's footsteps on the rocky path that led around the house and to the bottom of the hill.

“Ah, Spain. I was starting to think you weren't home,” he said and flashed him a smile. Not too wide or friendly so that he wouldn't come off like he didn't know he had been a bit of an ass but gorgeous enough to surely capture Spain's attention.

“I was working with the tomatoes.”

“At this time of the day?” France asked, curious. It was noon and entirely too hot to be working. Spain was usually asleep on his porch when the sun was this high.

“There's a lot of work to do,” Spain said.

“Well, it's good that I'm here because you can use my presence as an excuse for a break. You look like you need it,” France said and tried not to feel too distracted by the droplets of sweat running down Spain's face or his very open shirt. “Because I came to talk.”

Spain shrugged. “That's nice, but there really is so much work. I don't think I have the time to listen.” He paused to think and smiled. “Unless you want to give me a hand. You can talk while we work.”

“What?” France blurted out. “You mean, help you out with the tomatoes?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” France fidgeted with the basket in his hands. He wasn't entirely a stranger to agriculture, but he preferred something that didn't require him to get himself dirty or work too hard. Like watching beautiful young men and women pick grapes in his wine fields. That was his favourite.

“That's okay. You don't have to,” Spain said and turned around to return to the field.

France quickly made up his mind. He had to talk to Spain, no matter the cost. He could get a little dirt under his fingernails, right? It couldn't be so bad. Spain did it every day, after all.

“Wait, I'll help you,” he said and put down his basket.

“Alright, come on.”

“Hey, don't I get to change?” France asked, but there was no answer from Spain. The thought of getting mud on his lovely jacket made him shiver in horror, so he took it off and hung it over one of the chairs on the porch before hurrying after Spain.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought as he observed the tomato field. Spain loved it here, so it might be a good place for his apology and for charming him off his feet once more.

“I've been thinking a lot over the past few days and –”

“You can start with those two rows over there. I'll start here, okay?” Spain said happily and pointed a section of the field out to him.

France smiled in agreement. Fine. If Spain wanted to see him work a little before listening to his apology, he could play that game. “Alright, I'll –” he started, but he forgot what he had been about to say when he saw the rows Spain had picked for him.

This... this could not be happening! He had to be dreaming. The unspeakable sight before him had to be nothing more than a figment of his imagination that was surely warped after spending too much time under the Spanish sun.

With this reassuring thought in mind, France closed his eyes. He hoped that when he opened them again, the hallucination would be gone. However, that was not to be. The tomato plants surrounded by a sea of weeds and rotting fruit were still there.

“What is this?” he shrieked.

“I thought you could start over there,” Spain replied.

“But... Why does everything look like that? You can't expect me to go there in these shoes!”

Spain paused his work to think. “Then I guess you'll have to take them off.”

Now that was just spiteful. Spain knew perfectly well how sensitive France's feet were and that he wouldn't be able to walk for a week if he entered that jungle of horridness without shoes.

It finally dawned on him that Spain was doing this on purpose. That swine! France had come all the way here to apologize, and Spain was playing such a cruel trick on him. He – he most definitely... 

...deserved it.

France's shoulders slumped in defeat as he realised that Spain was more than justified in his treatment of him. What France had done to him was much worse. It hadn't felt so at the time, but as he now thought back to the words he had spoken the last time he had been in Spain, he felt his heart curl up in shame and regret.

“Spain, listen. I've been so selfish. What I said last time was a terrible mistake, and I wish nothing more than that I could take it back,” he said and watched Spain for his reaction, but there was none. The tanned nation simply continued working on his rows of the field.

France sighed and cast a forlorn look at the dreadful work that awaited him. He had no choice, he knew. Spain obviously wasn't listening to a word that he was saying. Not that he was under any obligation to. It was generous enough of him to allow him to stay. All that France could do was to try to do the work appointed to him and hope that by the end of it, Spain wouldn't be so angry anymore.

He walked to the end of the row, stumbling a little because his nice shoes weren't meant for such a terrain. He knelt down on the ground, wincing as he imagined what his trousers would look like after that. Then he realised that he hadn't brought a basket with him and had to get up and go back to get one.

Once he was finally able to start pulling out the weeds, he thought he might be able to live through it. It was definitely undignified, but he could do this. Alright, let's see. He'd just pull out these flowers here and put them in the basket. Oh, that took a little more force than he had been expecting. Accursed roots!

The silence that reigned between them soon started getting on his nerves. He decided to talk and say what he had come to say even if Spain wasn't listening.

“I was such an ass to you. The relationship we had was perfect. I don't think I've been that happy in centuries,” he said.

He was already sweating, not having done much physical work in a long time. He tried to reach for the handkerchief, but then he remembered that it was in the pocket of his jacket.

“Do you remember what I told you last time? That I was afraid I was changing too much and too fast. It's true, but only because I was a complete idiot. I thought that – ouch, ouch!” France's monologue was cut off when something bit painfully into his hand. Muttering profanities in French, he lifted his fingers before his eyes and saw that he had cut them on something.

He clenched his hand into a fist and hissed, but he refused to give up. A couple of weeds wouldn't be the end of him!

“I realised that I loved you so much that it was changing me, or at least I thought it was. I got scared that I no longer had control over my life, and then I panicked. That's why I made that stupid, stupid decision to break up with you,” he said as he continued his work and ignored the protests of his hands.

The heat of the sun made him wish that he had a hat of some sort. He reached up to take off his tie and open the first few buttons of his shirt. It didn't help much, but at least it gave him an excuse to leave the weeds alone for a while. His hands were hurting, and the skin of his fingertips was turning red and bruised.

“I thought that would help, but it was no use. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Only you! It has been driving me insane, and I can no longer keep my eyes closed from the truth. I love you, and I don't know what I'll do if I can't have you back!”

He waited to see if Spain would say anything to that, but there was still no response. France lowered his eyes to his hands and the still mostly unfinished work before him.

“But that's not what matters, is it?” he asked. “This isn't about how I feel but how I treated you and hurt your feelings. I was an ass. I'm sorry. Even if you never want to see me again, I want you to know at least that much. I was wrong. I regret everything I said.”

He said nothing more during the next two hours that he spent pulling out the weeds. It was clear that Spain wasn't going to talk to him. It was hopeless, but he deserved it. He couldn't just waltz to Spain's house and expect him to take him back like nothing had happened.

He'd just finish the work he had started to save some of his dignity and go back home to lick his wounds. Spain's message was clear. France had wanted a free life in which he could sleep with anyone he wanted, and that was what he had got.

By the time he was finally finished with the work, he felt like collapsing on the ground and never getting up again. His entire body was aching, even in places that he thought he hadn't used. His hair was a mess, and both his shirt and trousers were so dirty that he didn't think he'd ever get them clean. And his nice shoes! They were ruined!

“This looks great,” Spain said as he came to take a look at his work.

“Look at my hands!” France was nearly sobbing as he showed his red, bruised and aching hands to Spain.

“Wow, that's pretty bad. You aren't used to this, are you?” Spain asked.

France only whimpered.

“You're going to feel a lot better if you soak them in cold water for a while. You can do that while I fix us some snacks.”

“What?” France asked. Where did this sudden friendliness come from? Hadn't Spain just completely ignored his heart-felt apology? Maybe it was another trick, but his hands hurt so much that he was willing to fall for it if he could get some relief first.

Spain's kitchen smelled faintly of garlic, and there was a bowl full of dried tomatoes on the table. France took a seat and watched Spain move around the room, humming as he took a small bucket and filled it with water for him.

“You should try these out. I picked them with Romano when he was here last week,” he said as he placed the bucket on a chair so that France could reach it and nodded at the tomatoes.

“Thanks, but I'll pass,” France said. He lowered his hands into the water and sighed contently. When he looked up, he saw Spain watching him with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

France pouted. “You have a very cruel streak, my friend,” he said.

“Because I made you work a little? I've done worse things to you over the centuries.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean! But alright, I won't hold it against you. I deserve this. I deserve a lot worse. And besides –”

France stopped abruptly when Spain reached into the water and took out his left hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the middle joint of each finger.

“Better?” he asked.

“What... are you doing?” France croaked, confusion and hope mixing in his chest. “I thought you were angry at me!”

“Oh, I am, but that's like being angry at America for being loud or at Japan for never saying what he really thinks. All these years have shown me that as much as you claim to be the expert in the matters of the heart, you can be horribly crude and hopeless when it comes to your own love life,” Spain said, releasing France's hand. “I guess that's the result of letting your libido do the thinking most of the time.”

“But?” France prodded.

“But I can't really remain angry for too long. I can see you're sorry.”

“You were listening to my apology? Why didn't you say anything?” France asked and couldn't help but feel a little irritated.

“I know you can talk your way out of anything. I'm much more impressed by your hard work. I didn't expect you to go through with it, but you did. For me. At least I hope so.”

“Of course it was for you! Why else would I do this to my beautiful hands?” France asked and lifted his fingers out of the water to take a look at them. Oh, they were so bruised and terrible and hurt so much!

Spain laughed. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“So... What does this mean?” France asked.

“That depends on whether you think you've learnt your lesson or not.”

“Yes!” France jumped to his feet, caught Spain's hands into his and pulled him close. “I have! I'll never do anything like that again! I swear!”

“I should hope so because next time I may not take you back. Even my patience has its limits,” Spain said.

“There won't be another time,” France said, hardly daring to believe that the dreadful day could have taken such a surprising and wonderful turn.

“Good.” Spain curled his fingers in France's hair, and France didn't resist when he brought him closer until he could catch his lips with his own. The hours working in the sun had left Spain tasting of sweat and tomatoes. France had thought he had missed Spain before, but now he knew just how desperately he had needed him back.

He slipped his hands under Spain's shirt and let them travel around his back, but that was the point when Spain pulled away from him.

“I have to finish those snacks,” he said.

“Really?” France whined.

“I'm hungry. Surely you aren't that deprived. What about all the people you were with after breaking up with me?”

“There was no one,” France admitted, almost ashamed of himself. “I tried, but it just didn't work.”

“I didn't realise I had such a bad influence on you,” Spain said with a shake of his head. “If you missed sleeping around so much, all you had to do was ask if I wanted to have a threesome. There are a few people I'd be happy to invite to our bed every now and then.”

“Right now you're more than enough for me, but I'll keep that in mind.” France paused to think. “Maybe Prussia will feel up to it.”

“Oh, no. Not him.”

“What? Why not?”

“I don't think Romano would like that at all. He can get pretty possessive.”

“Oh, really? Did Prussia finally make his move, then?”

“No, not him. Italy just called me this morning and said that Romano has flown to Germany to confess his feelings to Prussia. Since I haven't heard anything else, I guess it's going well,” Spain explained as he opened the fridge and took out some cheese.

“Unbelievable. Are you sure Italy isn't mistaken? I can't imagine Romano ever being open about his feelings.”

“I think it has done him some good to spend a little time with Prussia,” Spain said. “Can you get me a spoon?”

France knew exactly where everything in Spain's kitchen was, so he did as he was told. Soon enough, they were busy making small sandwiches and chatting idly about what they had been doing for the past few weeks. 

He used every chance he had to brush his hands against Spain's skin and smile at him to let him know how much he had missed him and how happy he was to be with him again. He tried to steal another kiss from him, but Spain shoved a piece of cheese into his mouth and wouldn't let him have what he wanted.

Later, France was more than delighted when Spain suggested that they should try out his new shower after their snacks, and not just because he was desperate to wash the day's sweat and dirt off his skin.

***

Something gave Prussia a painful kick right below his knee, so he turned around to get away from it. Normally he might have fought back, but right now he was so tired that retreating for the time being felt like the most sensible, not to mention comfortable, idea.

His opinion of this strategic manoeuvre changed as soon as he realised there was suddenly no more bed under him. He fell to the floor and hit his chin on the hard surface. It knocked some sense into his muddled mind, and he sat up, muttering profanities to himself.

He turned to glare daggers at whatever had caused his fall, but all irritation melted off his features when he saw what it was. Or who it was.

Romano was sound asleep on his bed, one leg draped over the spot that had been Prussia's territory just a moment ago. He was frowning, and his lips were moving slightly as he was muttering something to himself, but Prussia couldn't make out what it was.

“Hah, too cute,” he said and resisted the urge to poke his finger at Romano's cheek.

For that fleeting moment between sleep and awareness, he had completely forgotten what had happened the previous day. Just watching Romano sleep in his bed made him feel comfortably warm and content.

They hadn't done anything the previous night. Prussia liked to tell everyone that he was all about sex, but he had a huge soft side. Now that there was someone who wouldn't always be gone the next morning, he wanted to indulge in that and just be close to him.

But when they did eventually end up doing more... Prussia wondered if Romano had any preferences about topping and bottoming. Prussia was flexible, so he could go both ways, but he was hoping that Romano wouldn't have a problem with being on top. Those dreams had been hot, and he wanted to try them out.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Romano's eyes flutter open.

“Morning!” Prussia announced.

Romano grabbed a pillow and buried his head under it.

“Go away,” he said in a muffled voice.

“Hey, don't tell me you aren't happy to see me! What could be better than having my face be the first thing you see in the morning?”

Only growling came from under the pillow. Prussia supposed that since it was his first full day as someone's boyfriend in a long time, he might get a good start and do something great. Like bring Romano coffee in bed to get him properly awake.

He grabbed Gilbird from on top of his head and placed him on the bed next to Romano.

“Keep an eye on him,” he said.

Germany was sitting in the kitchen when Prussia arrived. He wished him a good morning and then promptly returned to reading his newspaper. If Prussia hadn't been in such a great mood, he might have felt irritated by his brother's lack of interest in his romantic accomplishments.

There was fresh coffee in the pan. Prussia poured it into the sink.

“What are you doing?” Germany asked.

“I want to bring Romano coffee in bed, but it has to be made by me. It doesn't count otherwise.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, come on, West! You're acting like we had hot, loud sex that shook the house all night! Try to act a little more at ease, okay?”

“Sorry. I'm still trying to get used to the idea that... you...”

“That we've formed the best couple in the world? Better get used to it fast because it's not changing any time soon!”

Prussia hummed to himself as he reached out to take two mugs out of the cupboard and placed them on the counter to wait for the coffee to get ready.

Germany coughed. “If you're hungry, I brought you some things from the bakery.”

“Oh, cool.” Prussia took the bag and peered inside. “Hey, cinnamon snails! Can I have them both?”

“That's why I bought them. I hope Romano will like them,” Germany said with a small smile.

“I had better not tell him you bought them before he's done swallowing, haha!”

The coffee was ready, so Prussia filled two mugs and took them and the pastries down to the basement. He saw that the situation had developed a little because Romano's head was no longer buried under the pillow. He was still lying on the bed, eyes open but too lazy to get up. Gilbird had moved to sit on his head.

“Man, you sure are tired. I wonder how exhausted you'll be when I've had my way with you all night.”

“Shut up,” Romano growled. He sat up, and Prussia handed him a mug. “Oh, goddammit, this is your crap coffee again!”

“You'll grow to like it.”

“Like hell,” Romano muttered, but he bravely kept drinking the coffee, even if he was grimacing all the way. Prussia hoped he was doing it because he had made the coffee for him.

“You look great with Gilbird on top of your head, you know. I didn't even know he liked you that much. Wait, I'll take a picture!” Prussia patted his pockets and then looked under the bed to search for his phone.

“You aren't taking a photo of me in the morning!”

“Aww, don't be so shy. You look awesome!”

“Yeah, right! You – nngh, stop!”

Prussia looked up when there was a change in Romano's voice. Funny, he wasn't doing anything to him. He wasn't even touching him.

Then he saw what the problem was. Gilbird had caught a hold of the strange hair curl that Romano for some reason didn't want to cut or get under control. It was a funny sight, especially since Romano's eyes had widened and his face was rapidly reddening.

“Get your bird off me!” Romano snarled and swatted at his head to get rid of the attacker.

“What if I don't?” Prussia asked with a grin. He had never seen it himself, but Spain had told him what happened when you touched the Italies' hair curl. It was weird, but he supposed there were stranger things in the world of nations.

“Then I'm going home and never coming back! Dammit, make him stop!”

“He's just hungry,” Prussia said, but he did reach out to take Gilbird into his palm. Besides, he figured it wasn't really cool to let his bird get Romano all that flustered, especially since he hadn't done it himself yet.

And speaking of that...

With Romano's defences down, Prussia used the situation to his advantage to organize a swift attack and grab the curl between his fingertips. He gave it a gentle yank and rolled it between his fingers, earning a stifled moan from Romano that made his grin widen.

“Don't do that!” Romano snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so! It's not fair!”

“How is it not fair?” Prussia asked, but he did let go. No need to get Romano too angry, and he supposed touching the curl against his will wasn't really a nice thing to do.

“Because you don't have a weak spot that I can take advantage of!”

Prussia wiggled his brows at him. “Oh, there's plenty you can do if you want to take that kind of revenge on me. You could give me a spanking.”

“Shut up!” Romano yelled and threw a pillow at his face.

Prussia laughed but stopped with the teasing. He took the bag from the bakery and offered one of the cinnamon snails to Romano.

“It's not poisoned,” he added when Romano took it but kept staring at it in suspicion. He watched Romano bite into the pastry and how the annoyed lines disappeared from his face at the taste. He figured he'd have to start keeping them around all the time for the inevitable occasions that he'd end up pissing Romano off.

He wondered if he should tell him that Germany had bought the pastries for them, just to see what Romano's reaction would be, but then he decided to keep that to himself. Munching on the treats had created a lull between them, and Prussia intended to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He had the feeling that such moments would be rare in their relationship.


End file.
